nun. 


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MLLEJf  M02TTG0MKRT3  B00XCA3& 


MR.    RUTHERFORD'S    CHILDREN, 


ELLEN  MONTGOMERY'S  BOOKSHELF, 


BY   THE    AUTHORS    OF 
"thb  wide,  wide  world,"  "qtteeohy,"  "dollars  and  cents,' 

ETC.,   ETC. 


MR.  RUTHERFORD'S  CHILDREN 


BOSTON : 
SHEPARD,    CLARK    &   BROWN, 

110  Washington  Street. 


Znter«d  ftc«ordto£  to  Art  »f  Congreafl,  in  tha  jfsar  1S33,  Oy 

€.    P.   PUTMAM    JL*t    COMPANT, 

la  t*w  C!«rk*t  Otike  of  th«  DUtrict  Court  of  tke  United  States  for  th*  SoutW*  Dijftnot  <* 
Hew  Tork. 


THE  STORY 


ELLEN  MONTGOMERY'S  BOOKSHELF. 


rPHOSE  people  who  ever  knew  Ellen  Mont- 
gomery will  remember,  perhaps,  her  friend- 
Miss  Alice ;  and  perhaps  remember,  too,  that 
in  Miss  Alice's  bookcase  at  the  parsonage 
Ellen  found  a  supply  of  pleasure  for  her  read- 
ing-time. There  were  Cook's  Voyages,  and 
Plutarch's  Lives,  and  divers  other  books  with 
which  she  used  to  delight  herself,  in  those  days 
when  yet  she  was  living  with  Miss  Fortune. 
All  this  was  told  about  in  the  history  of  Ellen 
which  has  been  published.  But  it  was  not  told 
in  that  history,  as  indeed  no  book  can  tell 
quite  every  thing,  that  there  were  a  few  of  Miss 
Alice's  early  childish  books,  for  which,  as  well 


6  THE     STORY     OF 

as  for  the  grander  works  mentioned  above, 
Ellen  Montgomery  had  a  great  favour ;  and  not 
Ellen  Montgomery  alone,  but  Ellen  Chauncey 
also.  When  she  had  once  read  them,  Ellen  by 
degrees  gathered  them  all  down  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  bookcase  and  stowed  them  away  by 
themselves  on  a  short  shelf  near  the  bottom, 
where  she  could  easily  and  at  any  time  get  at 
them;  Miss  Alice  having  cleared  out  for  her 
the  books  that  used  to  stand  there  before. 

And  it  fell  out  one  time,  that  Mr.  John  hav- 
ing brought  home  a  set  of  new  books,  was 
looking  for  a  place  to  put  them,  and  happened 
upon  the  row  of  Ellen's  favourites.  "  "What  do 
these  children's  books  down  here,  Alice?"  said 
he,  pulling  them  out;— "the  place  for  these  is 
at  the  top."  "  O  stop,  you  mustn't,  John,"  said 
his  sister ; — "  that  is  Ellen  Montgomery's  book* 
shelf."  And  Mr.  John  smiled  and  put  the 
books  back  again ;iri  due  order;  though  not  so 
well  but  that  Ellen,  the  next  time  she  came, 
found  that  somebody  had  been  meddling  with 


ellen   Montgomery's   bookshelf.        7 

them.  For  she  had  left  "  Mr.  Rutherford's 
Children"  at  one  end,  and  "The  Christmas 
Stocking"  next  it;  and  now  "The  Christmas 
Stocking"  was  at  the  end,  and  "  The  Breakfast 
Table"  next,  and  "  Mr.  Rutherford's  Children" 
in  the  middle. 

It  is  possible,  I  suppose,  that  other  children 
might  like  what  Ellen  liked.  But  these  books 
of  hers  cannot  be  found  now  at  any  of  the 
bookstores.  So  we  will  give  out  the  first 
volume  of  "  Mr.  Rutherford's  Children"  (there 
are  several  volumes)  by  way  of  trial ;  and 
if  that  is  liked  well  enough,  "  The  Christmass 
Stocking ;"  and  in  time,  maybe,  the  whole 
bookshelf.  I  hope  they  will  be  liked,  because 
else  the  "Bookshelf"  will  never  be  finished; 
and  unfinished  things  are  disagreeable. 

I  am  the  friend  of  all  Ellen  Montgomery's 

friends, 

ELIZABETH  WETHERELL. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PA0, 

WHERE   THEY    LIVED 11 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    BIRDS,    THE    CRAVAT,   AND   THE    MINISTER 20 

CHAPTER  III. 

CHERRY    AND    DASH,    AND    WHERE    THEY    WENT 39 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    WET    STRAWBERRIES 64 

CHAPTER  V. 

HEADACHE   AND    LOCUST    FLOWERS 71 

CHAPTER  VI. 

WHAT    SHALL    I    GIVE  ? 80 

CHAPTER  VII. 

SYBIL'S    BIRTHDAY 95 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

CHICKENS   AND   EGGS 105 


10  CONTEXTS. 

CHAPTER  IX.  i-aob 

THE    SILK-WORMS    AND    THE    BUTTERFLY    DOOR 126 

CHAPTER  X. 

CAT8    AND    CRACKERS , 143 

CHAPTER  XI. 

CLEAVELAND 159 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A    LETTER  AND    AN    ARRIVAL 178 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE    CURIOSITY    BOX 193 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CHRYSS A    AND    HER    COUSIN 211 

CHAPTER  XV. 

GOING    A    PLEASURING 228 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE    END    OF    THE    SUMMER 243 


WHERE     T  B  E  Y     LIVE  D. 

ILD-ROSE  lane  ran  clown 
from  Dusty  turnpike  to  the  sea-shore,  but  as 
you  might  suppose,  it  was  a  long  distance 
between   the  two.      No   one   who   saw   the   clouds 


12  WHERE     THEY     LIVED. 

of  dust  0:1  the  turnpike,  or  the  sparkling  of  the 
blue  water  of  the  sea,  would  think  there  could 
be  a  straight  road  from  the  one  to  the  other. 
To  say  truth  the  lane  was  not  straight.  For  a 
while  after  it  left  the  turnpike  its  course  was 
pretty  direct,  but  then  you  might  have  thought 
that  the  lane  was  sometimes  sociable  and  some- 
times solitary  in  its  taste  ;  for  it  would  run  off 
on  purpose  to  meet  a  queerlooking  little  brown 
house  with  ever  so  many  children  and  pigs  and 
chickens,  and  a  little  black  dog  that  barked  at 
everything  but  the  lane  ;  and  then  as  if  the  lane 
itself  were  quite  disgusted,  it  would  take  a  short 
turn  into  the  cool  quiet  woods.  It  was  a  won- 
der it  did  not  stay  there  always. 

A  great  many  things  lived  by  the  side  of  this 
lane.  And  first  there  were  the  wild  roses,  which 
grew  finely  and  just  as  they  felt  inclined, — wan- 
dering about  after  the  lane's  example.  They 
climbed  over  the  fence  and  hung  down  their 
heads  to  look  through  it  ;  and  they  laid  their 
little  red  cheeks  on  the  rails  and  on  the  posts 
and    sometimes    on    the   green    bank    below ;    only 


WHERE     THEY     LIVED.  13 

the  buds  stood  up  quite  straight  to  look  about 
them.  They  were  very  plain  common  roses,  with 
four  or  five  red  petals  and  a  great  yellow  centre; 
but  they  were  very  sweet  nevertheless,  and  now 
and  then  their  perfume  came  up  even  to  Dusty 
turnpike. 

Among  the  roses  the  little  birds  built  their 
nests,  and  lived  there  with  the  thorns  to  protect 
them.  Nobody  conld  see  the  nests  from  the  lane; 
only  you  could  see  the  birds  lighting  upon  the 
roses  and  then  creeping  into  some  little  place 
where  there  must  have  been  something  in  the 
shape  of  a  house.  The  song  sparrows  had 
bluish  eggs  with  brown  speckles  all  over,  and  the 
chipping  birds  had  light  blue  eggs  with  dark 
spots  at  one  end.  Nobody  ever  disturbed  them, 
for  the  lane  was  very  quiet;  and  when  the  rose 
leaves  fell  down  upon  the  eggs  there  was  nothing 
to  brush  them  off  but  the  wind,  and  that  could 
hardly  get  in,  the  hedge  was  so  thick 

A  great  many  butterflies  lived  in  the  lane,  and 
the  bees  did  not  live  there  exactly,  but  they  came 
every   day   and    then   weut   back    to    the    hive    at 


14  WHERE     THEY     LIVED. 

night;  and  there  were  some  caterpillars  too,  but 
that  there  always  will  be  where  there  are  butter- 
flies, and  the  birds  had  the  less  trouble  to  get 
their  breakfasts.  Only  the  little  chippingbirds 
had  a  very  nice  taste  and  preferred  bread;  and 
they  used  to  fly  off  to  Mr.  Rutherford's  house, 
and  pick  up  the  crumbs  that  were  shaken  from 
the  table-cloth  and  swept  out  of  the  door. 

For  Mr.  Rutherford  lived  by  the  side  of  Wild 
Rose  lane  ;  and  he  thought  there  were  no  butter- 
flies so  merry  and  no  red-cheeked  roses  so  sweet, 
as  Sybil  and  Chryssa,  his  two  little  daughters. 
They  were  not  really  his  daughters,  though  he 
called  them  so;  and  though  he  loved  them  and 
they  him  as  if  he  had  been  their  father;  but  he 
was  only  their  father's  brother. 

Sybil  and  Chryssa  were  orphans.  Before  they 
were  old  enough  to  know  and  feel  the  sorrow  or 
the  loss,  God  took  away  both  their  parents  from 
earth  to  heaven;  and  indeed  there  was  no  reason 
to  feel  sorrow,  for  the  children  were  as  well  taken 
care  of  as  they  could  be,  and  their  father  and 
mother   had   loved   God   and   tried   to    serve   him 


WHERE     THEY     LIVED.  15 

while  they  were  here,  and  had  prayed  him  to  for- 
give them  for  Christ's  sake;  and  the  Bible  says 
that,  ""Whosoever  believeth  in  him  hath  eternal 
life." 

Mr.  Rutherford's  house  stood  just  by  the  side 
of  the  lane.  It  was  large  and  white,  with  a 
front  piazza  and  a  back  piazza,  and  a  great 
many  windows.  From  some  of  these  windows 
you  could  look  far  away,  over  green  meadows 
and  streams  of  water,  to  where  the  sun  used  to 
set  in  summer;  but  in  winter  it  went  down  be- 
hind a  clump  of  pine  trees.  In  front  of  the 
house  you  could  see  very  little  way, — there  was 
just  the  lawn  and  the  hedge,  and  then  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lane  there  were  a  great  many 
cherry  trees  that  stood  up  so  straight  that  their 
heads  seemed  to  touch  the  sky.  It  was  quite  a 
wonder  to  see  the  boys  climb  up  after  the  cher- 
ries,— but  they  never  seemed  to  fall,  whatever  the 
reason  was. 

All  about  the  lawn  in  front  of  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford's house  there  were  a  great  many  flowers ; 
and    behind    the     house    though    there    were    no 


1 6   -  WHERE     THEY     LIVED. 

flowers  there  was  another  green  lawn,  which 
stretched  away  till  it  fell  in  with  a  grove  of 
locust  trees.  Beyond  the  grove  the  hill  went 
down  very  fast,  and  at  the  foot  there  stood  the 
barns  and  carriage-house. 

Further  still,  outside  the  barnyard,  was  the"  cow's 
green  meadow  and  the  brook  where  the  water- 
cresses  grew. 

Within  doors  it  was  no  less  pleasant.  The 
drawing-room  was  oval-shaped  and  had  three 
windows.  Here  stood  a  little  tea-table,  a  large 
old-fashioned  mahogany  sofa  with  chairs  to  match, 
and  two  little  benches — the  favourite  seats  of  Mr. 
Rutherford's  children.  The  paper  on  the  walls 
had  a  yellow  ground  with  large  bunches  of  green 
flowers  ;  brass  andirons  stood  in  the  open  fire- 
place; there  were  vases  of  artificial  flowers  on 
the  mantel-piece,  and  any  number  of  flowers  in 
the  green  carpet. 

In  the  back  parlour  were  two  pantries,  a 
brown  carpet,  a  sideboard  instead  of  a  sofa,  and 
maple  chairs  instead  of  mahogany.  There  were 
two    benches    here    also,'  and    on    one   of    these 


WHERE     THEY     1,1  V  ED.  11 

Chryssa  seated  herself  the   first  day  of  her   arri- 
val, and  looking  up  at  the  vases  said, 

"Well  this  is  a  fine  house!" 
But  when  I  say  her  arrival,  I  mean  only  her 
return  home  after  a  winter  spent  in  town,  when 
she  was  of  that  happy  age  which  forgets  between 
fall  and  spring.  For  in  this  house  had  Chryssa 
spent  the  most  of  her  short  life,  and  even 
Sybil  could  remember  little  of  any  other.  Here 
had  Mr.  Rutherford's  children  lived  all  the  years 
that  their  father  and  mother  had  been  in  heaven; 
and  God  had  watched  over  them,  and  kept  them 
alive  and  well  and  happy.  They  did  not  always 
think  who  it  was  that  took  such  care  of  them, — 
that  gave  them  sleep  at  night,  that  let  them 
awake  every  morning  to  such  pleasant  days, — 
they  did  not  know  that  God  never  forgot  them — 
that  he  took  much  better  care  of  the  two  little 
helpless  children  than  their  father  and  mother 
could  have  done;  yet  it  was  so.  And  Mr.  Ruth- 
erford's children  were  very  happy.  Plain  and 
simple  as  everything  was  at  Rose  Hill,  Chryssa 
found  enough  to  admire;  whether  she  studied  the 


18  WHERE     THET     LIVED. 

green  lilies  of  the  valley  on  the  drawing-room 
paper,  or  the  many  colours  in  the  drawing-room 
carpet;  and  in  the  garden  there  was  always  some- 
thing beautiful.  To  look  at  the  dark  blue  spider- 
flower  and  wonder  whence  came  its  name;  to  find 
the  little  red  and  white  poppies  and  the  merry- 
faced  johnny-jumpers  springing  up  in  the  gravel 
walk;  and  above  all  to  stand  and  watch  the 
evening-primroses  at  sundown,  and  give  them  one 
of  her  gentle  breaths  when  they  did  not  open 
fast  enough, — these  were   neverfailing  pleasures. 

The  two  children  slept  in  a  large  room  over 
the  back  parlour,  with  only  a  closet  between 
it  and  their  aunt's  room.  Their  own  room  was 
the  pleasantest,  Chryssa  thought,  for  it  had  three 
windows ;  and  she  was  very  fond  of  the  great 
mahogany  bedstead  where  they  slept,  and  of 
the  polished  brass  andirons  where  she  used  to 
see  the  queer  reflection  of  her  own  face,  and 
the  green  wire  fender  with  its  brass  top-rail  all 
studded  with  brass  knobs,  like  the  turrets  on  a 
battlement. 

It  is   evening  in  this  room  ;  and   on   the   edge 


WHERE     THEY     LIVED.  19 

of  the  bed  kneels  a  very  little  child,  while  in. 
front  of  her — standing  and  making  of  her  arms 
and  herself  a  sort  of  barricade — is  a  girl  some 
years  older.  And  what  are  they  doing?  The 
elder  child  is  trying  to  teach  the  younger  her 
first  prayer  ;  and  the  baby — as  I  may  almost 
call  her — somewhat  unwillingly,  and  with  a  very 
slight  sense  of  the  meaning  and  importance  of 
the  words,  repeats  after  her  sister  in  her  own 
broken  English, 

"  Our  Father  which  art  iu  Heaven." 

And  this  was  the  first  thing  that  little  Chryssa 
could  remember  about  herself. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    BIRDS,    THE    CRAVAT,    AND    THE    MINISTER. 

TT  was   summer  weather,   and   Chryssa  wore  no 
stockings    but   only  little   high  morocco  shoes 
tied  round  the  ancle. 
Thus  it  happened  one  morning,  that  while  Sybil 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  21 

still  sat  on  the  floor  busy  covering  her  bare  feet, 
Chryssa  sprang  up,  exclaiming, 

"Ah,  I  have  got  done  first!" 

"Good  reason  why,"  said  Sybil;  "you  had  no 
stockings  to  put  on.  But  I  wonder  what  you 
call  '  done,' — look  at  your  shoe-strings." 

"  Because  I  don't  know  how  to  tie  a  bow-knot, 
and  if  I  tie  'em  in  a  hard  knot  they'll  never 
come  out.  O  here  is  a  little  stone  that's  got  to 
come  out — in  my  shoe.  Wouldn't  it  be  nice  to 
wear  bare  feet  ? — so  cool." 

"  But  nobody  does,  except  poor  children,"  said 
Sybil. 

"  0  yes,"  said  Chryssa  ;  "  the  chickens  have 
bare  feet — and  the  cats." 

"No,  the  cats  have  stockings,"  said  Sybil;  "fur 
stockings." 

"How  nice  that  would  be,"  said  Chryssa, 
laughing.     "I  wish  I  was  a  cat." 

"I  don't  wish  you  were,"  said  Sybil,  "because 
then  I  should  be  one  too." 

"Then  we'd  be  two  kittens,"  said  Chryssa; 
"with  whiskers  and  fur  stockings." 


I'l  THE     B1RPS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC 

"  And  claws,"  pai<l  Sybil. 

"  No,  we  wouldn't  have  any  claws,"  said 
Chryssa,  "  because  you  know  we  shouldn't  want 
to  scratch  anybody.  And  we  wouldn't  have 
green  eyes  either.  But  oh  Sybil,  wont  you  show 
me  how  to  tie  a  bow-knot?" 

And  sitting  down  on  the  floor  opposite  her 
sister,  the  two  little  feet  were  stretched  out  with 
their  dangling  shoe-strings. 

"  Now  do  you  see  ?"  said  Sybil.  "  You  make 
a  loop  of  this  one  so,  and  put  the  other  round 
so,  and " 

"But  I  can't  see  so/"  exclaimed  Chryssa. 
"  You  must  come  alongside  of  me." 

"  0  yes  you  can,"  said  Sybil  as  she  drew  the 
knot.  "  Now  you  can  tie  the  other  one  in  the 
same  way." 

"  I  can't — I  don't  know  how.  You  must  come 
here  and  show  me." 

"No  indeed,"  said  Sybil,  "you  can  see  perfectly 
well  if  you  will  only  take  the  trouble,"  and  up 
she  got  and  began  to  brush  her  hair ;  while 
Chryssa   sat  looking  at  her  outstretched  feet,  the 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  23 

tied  shoe  and  the  untied  shoe,  with  a  very 
doubtful  face. 

"  Why  Chryssa,  what  is  the  matter  that  you 
look  so  disconsolate  ?"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  as 
she  threw  open  the  closet  door  and  came  in. 
"There  isn't  a  bit  of  fog  out  of  doors  this 
morning,  how  comes  there  to  be  any  in  here  V 

"What  does  the  fog  do?"  said  Chryssa,  look- 
ing up  with  a  brightened  face. 

"  The  fog  makes  the  blue  sky  look  grey  and 
the  sun  look  dim,   and   everything  else   dark   and 

uncomfortable." 

"  Except  the  spider's  webs,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  Ah  Aunt  Esther,  you  forget  how  bright  they 
look  with  the  dewdrops  on  them." 

"  Well,  but  are  your  eyelashes  spider's  webs  ?" 
said  her  aunt  as  she  took  Chryssa  up  on  her 
lap. 

"I  guess  not,"  said  Chryssa  laughing  and  shak- 
ing her  head  about;  "but  you  see  Aunt  Esther 
I  didn't  know  how  to  tie  a  bow-knot,  and  Sybil 
Wouldn't  show  me  so  that  I  could  learn." 

"So  that  you  would  learn,"  said  Sybil 


24  THK     BIRDS.,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

"There  Ls  a  verse  in  the  Bible,"  said  Mrs 
Rutherford  who  was  quietly  tying  the  other 
shoe,  "  which  says,  '  Little  children  love  one 
another.'  " 

Chryssa  looked  down  at  her  shoes,  and  Sybil 
brushed  her  hair  more  earnestly  than  ever. 

"  I  think  there's  a  verse  in  the  Bible  for  almost 
everything,"  she  said  at  last,  "  but  then  one 
never  remembers  'em  at  the  right  time.  I  can 
think  of  plenty  of  verses  afterwards." 

"  Aunt  Esther,  did  you  ever  learn  the  whole 
Bible  by  heart  ?"   inquired  Chryssa. 

"  No  love,  I  never  did." 

"What  an  idea!"  said  Sybil.  "I  don't  believe 
anybody  could." 

"  I  believe  some  people  have  done  it,"  said 
her  aunt.  "But  without  learning  the  whole 
Bible,  Sybil,  you  and  Chryssa  might  learn  one 
verse  every  day,  and  see  how  well  you  can  obey 
it." 

"  That  would  be  so  nice,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  What  verse  shall  we  learn  to-day  ?  '  Little 
children  love  one  another  ?'  " 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,      ETC.  25 

"  Yes,"  said  her  aunt  smiling,  "  I  think  that 
will  do  very  well." 

Chryssa  jumped  down  from  her  seat,  and  then 
she  danced  all  the  way  down  stairs  and  into  the 
garden  to  bid  the  flowers  good  morning.  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  fresh  and  lovely  than  they 
all  were  ;  and  as  she  walked  along  from  moss- 
pink  to  periwinkle,  her  admiration  was  too  great 
to  be  spoken,  she  could  only  fold  her  hands  and 
look  at  the  beauties  with  a  very  grave  little  face 
indeed.  But  by  the  time  she  had  gone  once 
round  the  lawn  the  bell  rang. 

"  0  Aunt  Esther !"  she  cried  as  she  ran  in, 
"  there's  such  a  beautiful  sweet-william  out ! — with 
pink  stripes  and  dark  in  the  middle." 

The  family  were  all  gathered  in  the  back  par- 
lour for  prayers,  but  Chryssa  was  in  no  mood 
for  anything  quiet;  and  though  she  did  keep  still 
until  prayers  were  over,  she  came  singing  to  the 
breakfast-table,  and  while  a  blessing  was  asked 
her  eyes  went  out  of  the  window. 

It  so  happened  that  one  of  the  chipping-birds 
had  already  come  from  the   lane   to  get  crumbs ; 


26  THE     BIRDS,     THE    CRAVAT,     ETC. 

and  he  hopped  about  the  piazza,  and  gave 
Chryssa  a  look  out  of  his  little  bright  eyes  that 
was  quite  irresistible — Chryssa  laughed. 

"  That  was  very  naughty,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford, 
gravely  though  gently,  when  he  had  concluded. 

Chryssa  coloured  and  hung  her  head. 

"  I  saw  a  bird  in  the  piazza,"  she  said  ;  "  and 
it  looked  at  me,  and  I  laughed." 

"  We  hold  down  our  heads,"  replied  her  uncle, 
"  that  we  may  see  nothing  to  make  us  forget 
that  we  are  speaking  to  God.  "We  cannot  expect 
him  to  bless  us  if  we  think  of  something  else 
while  we  ask  for  his  blessing." 

Chryssa  understood  and  remembered,  and  never 
again  listened  with  open  eyes. 

Breakfast  over,  Mr.  Rutherford  began  to  make 
ready  for  town,  and  the  children  ran  off  to  do 
their  part  of  the  preparation.  This  was  to  get 
the  prettiest  rose  that  could  be  found  on  either 
of  their  own  little  monthly  rose-bushes  ;  for  they 
never  forgot  that  their  uncle  Eked  to  have  one 
in  his  mouth  as  he  drove  down  to  the  city ;  and 
there    was    generally   quite    a    consultation    as    to 


THE  BIRDS,  THE  CRAVAT,  ETC.      27 

which  rose  was  the  largest  and  pinkest  and 
sweetest.  This  morning  the  best  was  found  upon 
Chryssa's  bush,  and  she  followed  her  uncle  to  the 
willow-tree  where  the  gig  stood,  with  the  rose  in 
her  hand  and  some  request  in  her  mouth  which 
was  the  subject  of  a  long  confidential  whisper. 

"What  were  you  talking  about?"  said  Sybil 
as  Mr.  Rutherford  drove  off  and  Chryssa  came 
skipping  back  from  the  willow-tree. 

"  0  never  mind — you  musn't  ask.  Suppose  we 
go  look  for  those  queer  flowers  in  the  grass, — 
don't  you  want  to  ?  And  oh  Sybil,  let's  watch 
the  little  bird  on  her  nest  ;  but  we'll  find  the 
flowers  first." 

The  flowers  grew  on  a  long  stalk  here  and 
there  among  the  grass.  The  grass  was  pretty 
tall  now  too,  though  not  ready  for  mowing  ;  but 
these  particular  flowers  that  the  children  were  so 
fond  of,  were  taller  still,  and  lifted  their  purple 
heads  above  the  green  blades  of  grass  modestly 
enough  perhaps,  but  still  in  a  very  decided  man- 
ner. The  flower  itself  was  quite  pretty,  but  the 
plant's  chief  attraction  lay  in  the  stem. 


28  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

"  See,  here  is  a  fine  one,  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil 
when  they  had  run  about  for  a  few  minutes. 
Chryssa  stood  eagerly  by  to  watch  while  her 
sister  broke  off  the  flower.  From  the  end  of  the 
stem  came  out  some  large  drops  that  looked  like 
very  thick  milk  :  Sybil  held  that  end  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  immediately  the  white  drops  began  to 
grow  yellowish,  then  orange,  and  then  of  so  deep 
a  colour  that  they  looked  more  like  molasses 
than  milk.  At  this  point  the  flower  was  thrown 
away  and  a  fresh  one  sought  out. 

The  bees  were  humming  around  the  white  clover, 
and  the  butterflies  were  flitting  lazily  about  in 
a  dainty  sort  of  a  way ;  and  the  birds  in  the 
hedge  sang  as  if  their  throats  were  full  of  music. 
The  children  ran  about  till  they  were  tired,  and 
then  jumped  into  the  long  grass  and  lay  down. 
And  the  grass  stood  up  straight  on  all  sides  of 
them,  so  that  all  anybody  could  see  at  first  was 
a  broken  place  in  the  grass, — then  they  could 
find  what  looked  like  a  picture  of  Sybil  and 
Chryssa  in  a  pretty  green  frame. 

"  How   pleasant   it   is !"   said   Chryssa,   shutting 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  29 

up  her  eyes  quite  tight.  "  I  don't  want  to  go 
in  ever — do  you  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sybil.  "I  suppose  I 
might,  some  time  or  other.  If  it  was  tea-time 
— and  we  had  strawberries  for  tea." 

"  Oh  if  it  was  tea-time,"  said  Chryssa, — "  but 
that's  a  great  way  off.  And  I  don't  care  about 
dinner  much." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  little  bird's  doing,"  said 
Sybil,  "  and  how  she  gets  on  with  her  nest. 
Suppose  we  go  see." 

"  Well,  suppose  we  do,"  said  Chryssa. 

So  they  got  up  and  left  their  own  little  nests 
m  the  grass,  and  went  to  the  house  and  into 
the  front  parlour.  The  window  at  which  they 
placed  themselves  opened  upon  the  piazza,  along 
the  front  of  which  roses  and  honeysuckles 
stretched  and  twined  themselves,  supported  by 
two  or  three  iron  chains.  Among  the  leaves 
and  flowers  by  which  the  chains  were  quite 
hidden,  a  little  brown  bird  was  building  her 
nest.  The  children  stood  perfectly  quiet,  hardly 
daring   to   stir   for   fear    of    frightening    her,    and 


30  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

watched  the  progress  of  the  work.  The  nest 
was  nearly  finished.  Little  sticks  and  twigs  and 
stalks  of  hay  were  nicely  platted  together,  to 
make  a  rough-looking  little  tea-cup, — rough  on 
the  outside,  but  within  there  were  no  twigs 
allowed  to  show  themselves,  only  dry  grass  ;  and 
now  the  bird  brought  long  horse-hairs  and  wove 
them  iiij  to  make  the  nest  still  softer.  Then  she 
sat  on  the  edge  of  the  nest  with  her  head  a 
little  on  one  side,  lost  in  doubt  or  admiration — 
Chryssa  could  not  tell  which. 

"What  do  you  suppose  birdie  is  thinking  of?" 
said  she  softly. 

"Thinking  how  nice  her  nest  looks,  maybe,"  said 
Sybil.     "  There  she  goes  !" 

She  was  gone  a  longer  time  than  usual,  the  chil- 
dren thought,  and  they  were  talking  very  earnestly 
about  the  reason  ;  but  when  they  looked  again 
there  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  nest,  and  in  her 
bill  a  little  white  feather.  She  turned  her  head 
about  two  or  three  times,  gave  a  little  low  chirp, 
and  then  jumped  down  into  the  nest,  feather  and 
all 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  31 

"  The  nest  must  be  'most  clone  now,"  said 
Chryssa  joyfully,  "because  birdie  is  making  her 
bed." 

"Miss  Chryssa,"  said  Janet  who  had  come  into 
the  room  without  being  noticed,  so  busy  were  eyes/ 
and  thoughts  with  the  bird.  "  Miss  Chryssa,  here 
is  something  for  you  Miss.  Michael  is  just  come 
home  with  the  gig  a  minute  ago,  and  he  brought 
it." 

"  For  me  ?"  said  Chryssa, — "  what  can  it  be  ! 
Are  you  sure  it's  for  me  Janet  ?" 

"  That's  what  Michael  says,  Miss." 

"Do  open  it,  Chryssa,"  said  her  sister. 

Chryssa  unfolded  one  corner  of  the  parcel  and 
immediately  hugged  it  up  to  her  breast  with  a  face 
of  great  delight. 

"  How  very  good !"  she  cried.  "  O  I'm  so 
glad  !    Uncle  Ruth  is  too  good  !" 

"But  what  is  it?" 

"  Why  you  see,"  said  Chryssa,  "  I  asked  him — 
but  I  didn't  think  he'd  do  it  to-day — to  get  a 
little  silk  handkerchief  for  Aunt  Esther ;  and 
then   as  soon  as  he  got  to  town   he   bought   one 


32  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

and  made  Michael  bring  it  home.  Isn't  be 
good  T[ 

"  But  what  made  you  ask  him  V 

"  Because  I  heard  her  say  she  wanted  one, 
and  I  thought  I  should  like  to  give  it  to  her. 
And  you  see,"  continued  Chryssa  as  she  undid 
the  parcel,  "  it's  perfectly  beautiful !  I  like  the 
colour  so  much, — it's  straw-colour  ;  and  it's  fringed 
too.  Come,  let's  go  give  it  to  her  ;"  and  they 
raD  away  up  stairs,  where  all  the  exclamations 
of  pleasure  were  again  and  again  repeated. 

The  children  had  finished  all  their  lessons  and 
eaten  dinner;  and  now  the  sun  was  sinking  slowly 
down  in  the  west,  and  the  long  shadows  lay 
across  the  lawn  from  one  side  to  the  other. 
Everything  looked  a  little  weary  and  quiet.  The 
countrymen  drove  down  the  lane  in  their  wagons 
which  had  looked  so  spruce  and  clean  when  they 
went  to  market  in  the  morning ;  but  now  the 
wheels  were  muddy,  and  the  rest  of  the  wagon 
splashed  and  soiled,  and  the  horses  hung  down 
their  heads  and  trotted  slowly  along  ;  and  even 
the    countrymen    looked    tired,    but    they   remem- 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  33 

bered  that  they  were  going  home  to  tea,  and 
then  touched  their  horses  with  the  whip  to  make 
them  go  faster. 

The  chickens  had  finished  their  tea,  and  were 
sauntering  along  to  bed,  but  stopping  to  eat 
everything  they  found  by  the  way  ;  and  the  birds 
were  looking  for  a  nice  roosting-place  in  the 
trees,  and  some  of  the  flowers  were  folding  up 
their  pretty  leaves ;  while  the  evening-primroses 
were  just  beginning  to  open  their  eyes,  which  were 
too  weak  to  bear  the  sunlight.  Up  in  the  sky 
the  clouds  were  bright  with  red  and  gold-colour 
and  purple,  that  did  not  look  as  if  they  could 
ever  sleep ;  yet  they  too  would  by  and  by  be  grey 
and  quiet  like  all  the  rest. 

Sybil  sat  in  the  drawing-room  window  reading 
"  Northern  Regions,"  and  Chryssa  stood  by  her  side 
with  "  Original  Poems"  in  her  hand,  but  just  then 
she  was  looking  out  of  the  window.  For  the  little 
bird  seemed  inclined  to  try  her  feather  bed,  and  she 
had  got  into  the  nest  and  out  again  about  half-a- 
dozen  times ;  fidgeting  and  chirping  and  hopping 
about  as  if  she  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  her- 

9* 


34  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

self.  Cliryssa  watched  her  with  great  interest,— 
then  she  heard  the  gate  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn 
open  and  shut.  Sybil  heard  it  too,  and  looked 
out. 

"  There  comes  Mr.  Mcllvaine,  Aunt  Esther,"  she 
said. 

"  Who  is  Mr.  Mcllvaine  ?"  said  Chryssa  stand- 
ing up  on  her  toes  to  see  the  better. 

"Why  our  minister — that  preaches  to  us  every 
Sunday,"  said  Sybil  going  back  to  "  Northern  Re- 
gions." 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa  who  was  endeav- 
ouring to  make  up  her  mind  how  she  liked  Mr. 
Mcllvaine  out  of  the  pulpit,  "  do  all  ministers  wear 
black  clothes?" 

"A  great  many  of  them — perhaps  all." 

"  And  do  they  all  look  so  grave,  as  if  they  didn't 
feel  happy?" 

But  Mrs.  Rutherford  had  no  time  to  answer  this 
difficult  question,  for  the  visiter  came  in  and  took 
his  seat  by  the  window. 

Chryssa  eyed  him  with  some  distrust  :  neither 
black    clothes    nor    grave    looks    quite    suited    her 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  35 

notions  ;  and  Mr.  Mcllvaioe  was  not  destined  this 
day  to  grow  in  her  favour.  For  a  while  she 
looked  at  him  with  a  face  as  grave  as  his  own, 
and  then  going  to  the  sofa  she  began  softly  to 
"  slide  down  hill"  upon  one  of  its  round  cushions  ; 
and  her  mind  being  thus  happily  diverted  from  all 
sublunary  affairs,  she  was  greatly  astonished  when 
Mr.  Mcllvaine  suddenly  turned  round  and  addressed 
himself  to  her. 

"  How  many  eyes  have  you,  Chryssa  V  said 
he. 

Nobody  could  have  mistakeu  the  number  of 
Chryssa's  eyes  at  that  moment.  The  question 
was  asked  just  when  she  and  the  cushion  had 
pleasantly  reached  the  ground  together  ;  but 
without  making  any  attempt  to  regain  her  place 
on  the  sofa,  Chryssa  sat  still  on  the  cushion 
aud  opening  her  eyes  very  wide  indeed,  answered, 

"Two,   sir." 

"  And  how  many  ears  ?"  said  Mr.  Mcllvaine 
without   smiling   in  the   least. 

Chryssa  thought  for  a  minute  to  make  sure 
she  had   the  right   number,  and   said   as   before, 


36  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

"Two,    sir." 

"  And  only  one  mouth,  have  you  ?  How 
many  ?" 

The   little   mouth   said   very   softly, 

"  One." 

"  You  have  two  eyes,  and  two  ears,  and  only 
one  mouth  ; — then  you  should  see  a  great  deal, 
and   hear   a   great   deal,    and   say   very   little." 

Chryssa  looked  exceedingly  mystified  but  ven- 
tured no  reply,  and  the  sofa  cushion  was  left 
to  take  care  of  itself  for  the  rest  of  the  visit ; 
while  she  sat  with  her  hands  folded,  only  rest- 
ing herself  now  and  then  by  changing  their 
position,  and  putting  sometimes  the  right  hand 
on  top  and  sometimes  the  left,  or  by  drawing 
a  very  soft  long  breath. 

At  last  the  visiter  went  away,  and  then  the 
tongue  began   to   assert  its  rights. 

"Aunt  Esther,   was   I   making  any  noise?" 

"  ISot  the   least." 

"  Then   what   made  him   say  that   to   me  ?" 

"  I  suppose  he  thought  it  was  a  good  thing 
for   children   to   know   and  remember." 


THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC.  37 

"You  don't  think  so,  Aunt  Esther,"  said 
Chryssa,  leaning  her  arms  upon  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford's lap  and  looking  up  in  her  face.  "You 
like   to   have   me   talk   and   ask   questions  ?" 

"Yes  dear,  always.  But  strangers  mightn't 
like  it  so  well— they  might   call   it   troublesome." 

"  I  shall  never  ask  him  any  !"  said  Chryssa, 
"  and  I  didn't,  either.  But  Aunt  Esther  when 
I  said  there  was  a  little  grease  spot  on  Mrs. 
Auable's  frock,  she  said  children  shouldn't  have 
such   sharp   eyes." 

"  Don't  you  think  the  tongue  had  something 
to   do   there,    Chryssa  ?"   said   her   aunt   smiling. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "  you  know  you  are  to 
see   a   great   deal  more   than   you  tell." 

"So  I  did,"  said  Chryssa :  "  there  were  two 
grease  spots.  And  I  thought  it  was  very  kind 
to  tell  her   of  'em." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  your  good  intentions, 
my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "but  by  and  by 
you  will  understand  the  difference  between  other 
people's  business  and  your  own.  And  for  the 
present,    try   never    to    hear   what    you    are    not 


38  THE     BIRDS,     THE     CRAVAT,     ETC. 

wanted  to  hear,  nor  to  say  anything  that  will 
trouble  anybody,  —  then  your  little  ears  and 
tongue   will  be   in  pretty   good  order." 

"  And  how  about  the  eyes,  Aunt  Esther  ?" 
said   Sybil. 

"  If  our  eyes  are  often  lifted  up  to  God  for 
his  help  and  blessing,  he  will  not  let  them  go 
far  wrong,"  said  her  aunt.  "  And  then  we 
shall  look  at  ourselves  with  more  knowledge, 
and   at   our  neighbours   with   more   charity." 


CHAPTER   III. 


CHERRY   AND    DASH,    AND   WHERE    THEY   WENT. 


rpHE  carriage-house  and  barn   stood,  as   I   have 

said,    at    the    foot    of    the    hill    behind    the 

house.       The    road    wound    round    through    the 

trees,    going    pleasantly   down    all    the    while,    till 


40  CHERRY     AND     DASH, 

it  came  to  the  barn-yard  gate.  Here  were 
a  number  of  buildings, — the  carriage-house  and 
harness-room,  the  barn,  Jthe  stable,  and  the  cow- 
house. Round  the  barn-yard  there  was  quite  a 
high   wall. 

"  Come  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil  one  afternoon, 
"  let's  go  down  and  see  Michael  harness  the 
horses." 

"  Are  we  going  to  ride  V  said  Chryssa. 
"  Because   if  we   are  we   must   get   ready." 

"  O  we'll  have  time  enough — I  can  get  ready 
while  he's  driving  up  the  hill,  can't  you  ?  We'll 
start  just  before   him." 

"Well,"  said  Chryssa.  "But  we  shall  have 
to   run  very  fast.     Come." 

Off  they  went,  down  the  road  and  through 
the  locust  trees,  till  they  came  to  a  shady 
place  near  the  top  of  the  wall.  There  they 
sat   down. 

Everything  looked  very  pretty.  The  sun  was 
just  high  enough  to  throw  a  beautiful  yellow 
light  between  the  long  shadows,  and  the  sky 
was   perfectly   blue,    without    the    least    bit    of   a 


AND     WHERE     THEY     WENT.  41 

cloud.  Far  down  in  the  meadow  they  could 
see  the  white  cow  lying  down  among  the  but- 
tercups, and  the  red  cow  standing  up  and 
switching  her  tail  about  to  keep  off  the  flies ; 
and  it  would  seem  that  some  flies  had  found 
their  way  into  the  stable,  for  the  horses 
stamped  their  feet  now  and  then  with  great 
energy.  The  chickens  were  picking  about  the 
barn-yard,  and  sometimes  an  old  hen  would 
stoop  her  head  and  go  under  the  fence,  and 
then  stoop  her  head  and  come  back  again. 
One  hen,  with  buff-coloured  feathers,  was  rolling 
and  kicking  in  a  dusty  corner,  as  if  her  object 
was   to   get   as   dirty   as   possible. 

"  What  a  hen  !"  said  Chryssa.  "  I  never  did 
like   that   old  yellow  hen." 

"Your  white  hen  has  been  there  too,"  said 
Sybil,  "  and  there  she  goes  again — see.  I  won- 
der where   Speckle  is." 

"  0  there  she  is,  down  in  the  meadow  by 
Whiteside,"  said  Chryssa.  "  I  can  just  see  her. 
How  red   her   comb   is !" 

Michael   now   came   down   the   road   and   threw 


42  CHERRY     AND      DASH, 

open  the  great  doors  of  the  carriage-house,  and 
drew  out  the  barouche  into  the  road.  Then  he 
shut  the  doors  again,  and  went  through  a  little 
door  into  the  harness-room,  and  coming  out 
with  a  great  load  of  leather  and  brass  trap- 
pings,   he   went   off  to   the   stable. 

"  Now    he'll    have    'em    out    very    soon,"    said 
Sybil.      '•  I   hear  him, — what  do   you   suppose  he 
means   by   '  Come   up,    sir  !'  ?" 
■  "  I   don't   know,"   said    Chryssa.      "  Maybe   one 
of  'em   was   lying   down." 

And  now  the  stable  door  opened,  and  a 
pretty  brown  horse  bearing  his  half  of  the 
load  of  leather,  came  out,  and  marched  along 
through  the  gate  which  Michael  had  left  open 
till  he  came  to  the  carriage  ;  and  then  he 
stepped  very  carefully  over  the  pole  and  took 
his   place   at   the   other   side   of  it. 

"  That's  Cherry  !"  exclaimed  both  the  children 
together.  "  How  pretty  he  looks  !  how  nice  he 
is  !  That's  just  the  way  he  always  does.  And 
there   comes   Michael   leading   Dash." 

Michael    put    Dash    in    his    place,    and    began 


AND  WHERE  THEY  WENT.         43 

to  make  all  fast  ;  and  then  stroking  his  hand 
over  Cherry  and  giving  him  one  or  two  pats, 
he  looked  up  and  smiled  at  the  children,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Did  you  ever  see  a  better  brushed 
coat  ?"  and  the  children  looked  at  the  smooth, 
shining  horses,  and  the  clean  harness  and  carriage, 
and  the  bright  brass  mountings,  and  smiled  back 
their  approbation.  Then  they  ran  away  to  the 
house   to  get   ready. 

In  those  days  Sybil  and  Chryssa  wore  nankeen 
coats  with  tight  sleeves  and  two  or  three  little 
round  capes  ;  or  if  the  weather  was  very  warm, 
they  put  on  white  Vandykes  and  long  white  sleeves 
made  like  a  mitt  at  the  hand.  These  sleeves  had 
strings  at  the  top,  which  were  pushed  under  the 
short  froek-sleeves  and  tied  to  the  shoulder  strap, 
— in  Chryssa's  opinion  it  was  a  most  ingenious 
system  of  torture.  She  thought  her  frock-sleeve 
was  never  made  large  enough  for  her  arm  and 
somebody's  hot  fingers  beside  ;  and  by  the  time 
she  was  fairly  equipped  she  was  in  a  fidget  all 
over.  But  these  uncomfortable  feelings  soon  van- 
ished  when    she  was   seated   in   the    barouche   and 


44  CHERRY     AND     DASH, 

wheeling  round  the  lawn  ;  and  once  through  the 
gate  and  out  on  the  open  road,  with  the  fresh 
air  and  the  sweet  sight  and  smell  of  the  wild 
roses  in  the  hedge — it  would  have  taken  much 
more  than  heat  or  uncomfortable  sleeves  to  cloud 
her  face.  Sometimes  she  sat  on  the  back  seat 
among  the  cushions,  and  her  feet  not  within  speak- 
ing distance  of  the  floor,  sometimes  both  children 
were  on  the  front  seat  together. 

And  there  they  would  sit — watching  the  shad- 
ows of  the  coachman  and  horses,  of  the  carriage 
and  their  own  little  selves,  straw  bonnets  and 
all,  as  they  danced  up  and  down  the  road-side — 
now  on  the  grass  and  now  on  the  ground  and 
now  in  the  hedge, — and  wondering  what  made 
the  horses'  legs  so  long  and  their  bodies  so 
short ! 

Once  in  a  while  they  went  towards  the  sea- 
shore, and  then  the  water  would  come  glimmer- 
ing and  sparkling  through  the  trees  long  before 
they  reached  it :  and  when  they  got  nearer,  and 
Michael  stopped  the  horses,  the  children  could 
hear  the  waves  splash  and  break  upon  the  beach 


AND     WHERE     THEY    WENT.  45 

with  a  sound  that  was  enough  to  put  one  to 
sleep.  Sometimes  "  the  shady  road"  was  chosen, 
through  the  woodland  ;  where  they  rode  in  a 
beautiful  softened  light,  with  the  long  shadowy 
trees  thrown  across  from  side  to  side.  Where 
the  squirrels  ran  races  up  and  down  the 
trees,  and  the  wild  flowers  grew  in  the  deep 
shade  ;  and  the  birds  started  from  their  wayside 
nests  at  the  sound  of  the  carriage,  and  fluttered 
away  and  then  back,  as  the  wheels  rolled  off. 

And  then  the  drive  home — with  rather  more 
quietness  and  soberness  than  they  had  set  out, — 
the  occasional  drooping  of  little  eyelids — the 
thoughts  that  came  up  in  little  minds  about  tea 
and  radishes, — the  way  the  horses  pricked  up 
their  ears  and  trotted  on,  as  they  neared  the 
gate, — the  stopping  there,  for  Garret  to  swing 
back  the  great  barriers, — the  pause  at  the  front 
steps — a  pause  of  both  body  and  mind,  as  it 
were :  how  pleasant  it  all  was !  And  perhaps 
if  Chryssa  happened  to  be  particularly  sleepy  she 
didn't  open  her  eyes  at  all  till  they  got  to  the 
house  :  not  even  to  look  at  the  great  button-wood 


46  CHERRY     AXD     DASH, 

trees  by  the  gate,  nor  the  flowers  that  grew 
round  the  lawn ;  but  sat  quite  still,  her  little 
head  nodding  about,  her  ears  just  hearing  the 
grating  of  the  wheels  over  the  gravel  stones,  but 
her  eyes  not  once  looking  out  to  see  whether 
they  ran  over  the  poppies  and  johnny-junipers  as 
well,  until  Cherry  and  Dash  stopped  at  the  front 
steps.  It  did  happen,  more  than  once,  that 
Chryssa  failed  to  open  her  eyes  even  there  ;  aud 
that  Mr.  Rutherford  had  to  lift  her  out  of  the 
carriage  and  carry  her  into  the  house  and  lay 
her  on  the  sofa,  a  very  sleepy  little  child  in- 
deed. And  then  Sybil  would  get  a  little  soft 
blue  shawl  to  lay  over  her,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford 
would  shut  the  blinds  a  little  ;  and  Chryssa  knew 
nothing  about  that  or  anything  else  till  she  found 
herself  sitting  on  somebody's  lap,  and  trying  very 
hard  to  open  her  eyes.  But  she  usually  smiled 
long  before  that  desirable  point  was  attained,  just 
to  let  people  know  that  she  would  wake  up  as 
soon  as  she  could.     And  when  Sybil  said, 

"  Come  Chryssa  !  don't  you  want  some  tea  ?"' 

Chryssa  said, 


AND     WHERE     THEY    WENT.  47 

"  Yes — I  s'pose  so" — and  let  her  head  fall  on 
Mr.  Rutherford's  shoulder  again. 

Even  on  Sunday  the  children  had  a  ride,  but 
that  was  only  to  church  ;  because  Ferrytown  was 
too  far  away  for  them  to  walk.  So  they  used  to 
be  ready  very  early,  and  drive  to  church  ;  and 
when  they  had  all  got  out,  Michael  took  the  car- 
riage away  to  sonic  safe  place  where  Cherry  and 
Dash  could  be  in  the  shade  and  out  of  harm's 
way,  while  he  went  to  church  too. 

Mr.  Rutherford's  pew  was  not  like  those  you  see 
now-a-days.  It  was  very  large,  and  four-square  ; 
with  high  sides  painted  white  except  at  the  top, 
where  there  was  a  mahogany  rail :  at  least  the 
children  thought  it  was  mahogany,  but  I  presume 
it  was  only  stained  wood.  There  were  dark  pur- 
ple covered  cushions  all  round  the  pew,  that  looked 
as  if  a  great  many  people  had  sat  on  them  and 
worn  them  down  from  their  first  freshness ;  and 
the  purple  was  of  so  very  doubtful  a  shade,  that 
one  could  hardly  tell  whether  it  was  red  grown 
dark  or  black  grown  light,  or  whether  the  cushions 
had  always  been  purple  ;  and  they  looked  too  old 


48  CHERRY    A XD     DASH, 

to  remember  anything  about  it  themselves.  And 
the  hymnbooks  did  not  seem  a  bit  younger.  There 
was  no  doubt  about  their  colour — for  towards  the 
top  of  the  covers  and  along  the  back  there  were 
spots  of  dark  brown  leather  that  seemed  almost  as 
fresh  as  it  had  ever  been  ;  but  elsewhere  it  was 
worn  to  a  soft  light  brown,  and  even  the  gilt 
letters  on  the  cover  were  not  very  distinct.  Yet 
still  the  children  could  read  there,  "  William  Ruth- 
erford ;"  and  they  were  never  tired  of  hearing  their 
uncle  say  that  this  book  was  given  to  their  father 
when  he  was  a  little  boy ;  and  that  this  other, 
so  very  worn,  which  had  "  Christian  Rutherford " 
written  on  the  fly  leaf,  had  belonged  to  his  mother. 
There  was  no  need  to  tell  the  children  to  handle 
them  carefully, — they  would  not  have  turned  down 
a  leaf,  or  held  either  book  except  in  both  hands, 
for  anything  in  the  world.  These  books  seemed 
to  Chryssa  so  much  older  than  the  minister, 
that  it  was  quite  wonderful.  She  couldn't  al- 
ways understand  him  very  well,  and  she  used  to 
think  sometimes  that  she  would  much  rather  read 
the  hymnbooks. 


AND     WHERE     THEY    WENT.  49 

"  I  mean  to  do  it  next  time,"  she  told  Sybil 
one  day.  "  I  think  I  could  keep  awake  a 
great   deal   easier." 

"0   no   you  mustn't  I"   said   Sybil   seriously. 

"Why  mayn't   I?" 

"  Because  it  isn't  respectful,"  said  Sybil. 
"  Aunt  Esther  told  me  once  that  when  people 
are  talking  to  you  it  is  very  disrespectful  not 
to    listen   to  them." 

"  But    he    isn't    talking   to  me,"   said   Chryssa. 

"  0  yes  he  is — he's  talking  to  everybody  in 
the   church." 

So  lest  she  should  be  disrespectful,  Chryssa 
used  to  sit  up  very  straight  and  try  to  listen; 
and  then  she  would  slip  down  off  the  cushion 
and  sit  on  her  mother's  little  foot-bench  ;  and 
when  she  found  herself  looking  at  the  little 
brass  nails  and  maybe  counting  them,  she  would 
get  back  on  the  seat  again,  and  sit  up  straight 
as  before.  And  by  and  by  she  would  forget  all 
about  the  footstool,  and  the  minister,  and  being 
respectful,  and  then  she  could  just  feel  Mrs. 
Rutherford   taking    off    her    little  straw   hat   and 


50  CHERRY     A  XI)     DASH, 

putting  her  arm  round  her  ;  and  presently 
Chryssa  was  fast  asleep,  with  her  head  in 
Aunt  Esther's  lap,  and  her  little  feet  stretched 
out   on   the   old   purple    cushion. 

It  happened  one  Sunday  that  while  she  was 
asleep  it  began  to  rain  ;  and  when  at  last  she 
sat  up  and  looked  out  of  the  church-door  that 
was  by  the  side  of  the  pulpit,  there  to  be  sure 
were  raindrops  pattering  down  at  a  great  rate 
Chryssa  was  very  much  surprised,  and  she  called 
out  quite  loud,  "  0  it  rains  !"  and  then  when 
she  saw  all  the  little  girls  in  the  next  pew 
laughing  and  putting  up  their  books  to  hide 
their  faces,  she  hung  down  her  head,  and  felt 
very  much  ashamed,  and  afraid  she  had  done 
something  very  disrespectful. 

"When  they  came  out  of  the  pew  there  were 
always  plenty  of  people  to  shake  hands  with, 
so  that  the  going  down  the  aisle  was  a  rather 
slow  affair.  There  was  one  lady  in  particular 
whom  Chryssa  used  to  notice,  because  she  was 
always  there — in  the  same  bonnet,  and  shawl, 
and   parasol,  and  the    same    eurls    inside    of    her 


AND  WHERE  THEY  WENT.  51 

bonnet,  which  never  got  shaken  down  in  the 
least  ;  and  she  always  came  forward  just  at 
the  same  time  and  place  to  shake  hands  with 
Mrs.  Rutherford, — Chryssa  thought  she  must  be 
a   very   good  person. 

The  ride  home  was  pleasant,  though  it  was 
through  the  hot  sun  ;  but  the  children  had 
little  green  parasols,  with  green  fringe  and 
white  tops  and  handles,  and  of  course  nobody 
could   mind   the   sun  under   them. 

When  they  reached  home,  Mrs.  Rutherford 
used  to  let  the  children  lie  down  on  the  bed 
till  dinner-time,  if  they  felt  tired,  and  almost 
always  they  took  a  book  to  read.  Sometimes 
Sybil  picked  out  an  easy  story  in  "  The  Lady 
of  the  Manor,"  for  Chryssa,  but  generally  she 
chose  one  of  her  own  little  books — "  The  Mil- 
lenium," or  "  Nathan  Dickerman,"  or  "  Anna 
Ross."  The  "Millenium"  was  a  great  favourite. 
Not  that  Chryssa  could  understand  all  the  talk 
about  "  wool,  hair,  and  feathers,"  or  some 
other    things    there    related  ;    but    she    liked    to 


52  CHERRY     AND    DASH, 

read  the  description  of  the  beautiful  feathers 
of  the  blue  jay,  and  of  the  young  mountain 
ash  (she  thought  their  own  couldn't  be  the 
right  kind),  and  of  the  basket  covered  with  sil- 
ver paper — the  children's  walk  to  the  village — 
and  of  their  good  friend, — she  did  not  wonder 
at   all  that   the  children  loved  him. 

They  never  went  to  church  in  the  afternoon — 
it  was  so  far  away  that  there  was  not  time  after 
dinner.  But  they  had  Bible  lessons  at  home,  and 
there  were  hymns  that  Chryssa  liked  to  read  and 
to  learn,  and  sometimes  she  learned  verses  in  the 
Bible.  Once  when  she  asked  for  something  to 
learn,  Mrs.  Rutherford  told  her  to  choose  some 
verses  out  of  the  fifth  chapter  of  Matthew.  Chryssa 
found  the  place,  and  then  she  thought  she  would 
be  very  smart  and  learn  the  whole  chapter, — so 
she  began  with  great  spirit,  but  by  the  time  she 
had  learned  eight  or  ten  verses  she  was  as  tired 
as  a  little  child  need  to  be.  Before  tea  both  the 
children  used  to  read  aloud  to  their  uncle,  and 
then  he  would  explain  the  chapters  to  them,  and 
tell  them  about  their  father  and  mother, — how  they 


AND     WHERE    THEY    WENT.  53 

were  willing  to  leave  all  and  go  to  Christ  ;  and 
had  wished  but  one  thing  for  their  little  childi'en ; 
— that  they  might  love  and  serve  him  too. 

It  happened  one  Sunday  that  Mr.  Rutherford 
had  a  headache  all  day,  and  could  not  hear  the 
reading  ;  but  when  Chryssa  and  Sybil  came  to  bid 
him  good-night  he  kept  hold  of  their  hands  and 
said, 

"Who  has  read  any  in  the  Bible  to-day?" 

There  was  a  minute's  silence — then  Chryssa  said 
in  her  grave  childish  way, 

"  I  have  read  six  chapters  ;"  and  she  noticed 
and  long  remembered  her  uncle's  peculiar  smile, 
though  at  the  time  she  did  not  quite  understand  it. 


CHAPTER  IY. 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 


rpO  drive  to  the  ferry  for  Mr.  Rutherford  or  to 

walk  a  part  of  the  way  to  meet  the  carriage 

was   a  very   common    expedition,    and    one    much 

liked  by  the  children.     There  was  always  a  little 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES.  55 

hurry  and  bustle  about  getting  off  so  as  to  be 
sure  and  be  in  time,  and  then  the  wheels  rolled 
so  smoothly  and  the  horses  trotted  so  fast,  that 
even  when  the  dust  blew  and  the  sun  shone  into 
their  eyes  nobody  minded  it.  For  as  Sybil  said, 
they  could  turn  their  heads  toward  the  other  side 
where  the  sun  didn't  shine,  and  as  for  the  dust — 
why  they  could  wash  their  faces  wrhen  they  got 
home  :  they  were  going  to  get  Uncle  Ruth,  and 
that  was  enough. 

One  day  as  they  went  pleasantly  along  Chryssa 
began. 

"  Aunt  Esther  will  you  please  tell  me  about  my 
little  wagon  and  about  Sybil's  going  to  Cleave- 
land  ?" 

"Don't  you  recollect  it  Chryssa?  I  thought  your 
memory  went  back  as  far  as  that." 

"  0  yes,  I  remember  it  very  well,  but  I  like  to 
hear  you  tell  the  story  so  much." 

"I  think  she  does  tell  it  'so  much,'"  said  Sybil. 

"  Why  Sybil !  I  haven't  heard  it  this  great 
while  ! — not  since  last  winter  I  guess.  And  Aunt 
Esther  always  tells  it  so  nicely." 


56  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

"Well  then,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "it  was 
fine  summer  weather" — 

"Like  this?" 

"Warmer  than  this;  and  Sybil  had  not  been 
well,  and  Mrs.  Salisbury  thought  it  would  do  her 
good  to  go  to  Cleaveland." 

"  I  don't  wonder  she  thought  so,"  said  Chryssa, 
"it's  so  pleasant  at  Cleaveland.  And  Grandmam- 
ma came  for  Sybil,  didn't  she  ?" 

"  Grandmamma  came,  in  the  coach." 

"  She  spent  the  day  here — I  remember  that," 
said  Sybil. 

"  Yes  she  spent  the  day  here,  and  after  tea  she 
was  going  to  take  you  away.  But  when  the  coach 
came  to  the  door  and  you  went  down  the  steps 
with  your  bonnet  on,  Chryssa  began  to  cry  and  said 
you  should  not  go — that  she  would  not  let  you." 

"  And  what  did  Uncle  Ruth  do  ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Uncle  Ruth  took  you  up  in  his  arms  and  tried 
to  comfort  you,  and  told  you  that  Sybil  would  be 
back  in  a  few  days." 

"  And  did  I  stop  crying  ?" 

"No,  you  cried  harder  than  ever,  and  declared 


THE     'WET     STRAWBERRIES.  57 

she  should  not  go.  And  at  last  he  promised 
that  if  she  went  you  should  have  a  little  wagon 
to  play  with  instead.  And  you  looked  up  and 
said,  "  What  ?  Uncle  Ruth,"  and  then  your  head 
went  down  again  on  his  shoulder.  But  you  list- 
ened to  what  he  said  and  got  a  little  more 
quiet,  though  there  were  very  big  drops  in  your 
eyes  as  the  carriage  drove  off." 

Chryssa  laughed  heartily. 

"  How  very  funny  \a  she  said.  "  I  wouldn't  take 
a  wagon  for  her  now  though." 

"No,  you'd  have  to  let  me  go  without  any,  I 
guess,"  said  Sybil. 

"  And  is  that  the  same  little  wagon  I've  got 
now  ?" 

"  The  very  same." 

"  What  a  nice  one  it  is  !"  said  Chryssa.  "  I 
love  that  little  wagon." 

And  now  the  salt  breezes  began  to  meet  and 
refresh  them,  for  the  carriage  was  approaching 
Ferrytown  ;  and  presently  Michael  stopped  the 
horses  by  the  little  wharf  where  the  boat  came 
in.     She  was  not  there   yet,   but  they  could   see 

3* 


58  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

her  paddling  on  towards  them,  and  long  before 
she  was  near  enough  to  let  them  see  anybody 
the  children  were  sure  they  saw  Mr.  Ruther- 
ford. The  boat  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
then  to  be  sure  they  did  see  him,  with  a  basket 
in  his  hand,  standing  there  and  smiling  at  them. 
Then  careless  people  began  to  jump  ashore  before 
the  boat  was  made  fast ;  and  the  boatman  fast- 
ened the  chain  and  began  to  wind  it  up  on  his 
great  wheel  ;  and  people  a  little  more  careful  than 
the  first  jumped  over  the  great  bar  at  the  end 
of  the  boat.  Then  the  bar  was  taken  away  and 
everybody  hurried  off  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the 
horses,  who  were  very  eager  for  their  turn.  And 
then  they  came  tramping  out  of  the  boat,  making 
a  great  noise  and  clatter,  while  Mr.  Rutherford's 
horses  were  trotting  off  to  Rose  Hill,  well  nigh 
as  fast  as  their  feet  could  carry  them.  For  a 
few  minutes  the  sharp  sound  of  their  shoes  rang 
out  from  the  paving  stones  of  the  main  street 
of  the  little  village,  and  brought  to  the  doors 
the  few  children  that  were  not  already  there. 
Meantime  the   sun  was   getting  lower   and   lower, 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES.  59 

and  shone  into  the  carriage  with  pleasant  smiles 
that  troubled  nobody's  eyes  and  lit  up  everybody's 
■cheeks, — which  indeed  were  bright  enough  already. 
"  How  nice  those  radishes  look  !"  said  Chryssa 
as  they  passed  some  shops  where  the  long  red 
bunches  lay  piled  together. 

"  They  look  better  than  they  would  taste,  I  sus- 
pect,"  said   her   aunt  ;    "  radishes  are   not   always 
good  at  this  time  of  year." 
"  What  time  of  year  is  it  ?" 
"  To-morrow  will  be  the  first  of  June." 
"Will   it?"    said   Chryssa.     "0   then   we    shall 
have  some  strawberries." 

"What  makes  you  think  you  will  have  strawber- 
ries to-morrow  ?"  said  Mr.  Rutherford  with  a  smile. 
"  Because,  Uncle  Ruth,  when  I  asked  Aunt 
Esther  when  strawberries  would  be  ripe,  she  said 
in  June,  and  to-morrow  is  June,  and  I  mean  to 
look  for  them  very  early  to-morrow  morning." 

"I  am  not  sure  that  you  will  find  any,  how- 
ever," said  Mrs.  Rutherford,  "for  it  will  be  only 
the  first  day  of  June,  and  the  weather  has  not 
been  very  hot." 


60  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

"  Well,  I  can  look,"  said  Chryssa.  But  behold  ! 
when  the  morning  came  there  were  rain-drops  in- 
stead of  strawberries  ;  and  they  fell  in  such  abun- 
dance that  the  children  could  not  set  foot  out  of 
doors.  It  was  an  extraordinary  thing  to  see  clouds, 
and  falling  rain,  and  little  streams  of  water  trick- 
ling down  the  window  panes  on  the  first  day  of 
June,  Chryssa  thought ;  and  even  Sybil  watched 
the  rain  two  or  three  times  as  if  she  supposed  it 
did  not  like  to  be  looked  at  and  would  therefore 
remain  in  the  clouds  if  she  remained  at  the  window. 

"  What  do  you  think  about  it,  Syb  ?"  said  her 
sister  jumping  up  to  follow  Sybil  and  put  her  lit- 
tle arms  round  her.     "Won't  it  clear  up?" 

"  It  will  not  clear  up  for  your  looking,  Chryssa," 
said  her  aunt.  "  If  you  come  away  from  the  win- 
dow and  do  your  lessons,  the  morning  will  seem 
much  the  shorter." 

"But  Aunt  Esther  I  have  got  strawberry  in 
my  lesson  to-day  ;  and  if  I  say  it  over  and  over 
till  I  can  spell  it  I  shall  feel  very  bad." 

"  No  worse  than  if  you  stand  there  and  think 
it  over  and  over." 


THE     WET      STRAWBERRIES.  61 

"  Well    ma'am, what   shall   I   read   to-day, 

Aunt  Esther?" 

"  I  think  I  shall  find  you  something  about 
the  African  deserts,  to  teach  you  the  value  of 
clouds  and  rain." 

"  Well !"  said  Chryssa  again, — "  I  don't  be- 
lieve it  will  make  me  like  it  to-day,  anyway." 

"Perhaps  there  are  no  strawberries  ripe,"  said 
Sybil.  "  I  mean  to  believe  that  ;  as  the  fox 
thought  the  grapes  were  sour." 

"  He  was  a  very  foolish  fox,  I  think,"  said 
Chryssa.  "  I  dare  say  he  didn't  think  so  at 
all.  Aunt  Esther,  do  you  want  me  to  be  like 
the  fox  ?  do  you  want  me  to  think  there  are 
no  ripe  strawberries  ?" 

"  No,  I  would  rather  see  you  bear  patiently 
the  thought  that  there  are  ;  though  I  am  by 
no  means  sure  of  the  fact.  But  it  would  be  a 
pity  if  we  could  not  be  contented  one  day  more 
without  strawberries." 

"  But  perhaps  it  will  rain  to-morrow." 

"  Perhaps  it  will,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  look- 
ing up  with  a  very  sunshiny,  catching  smile. 


62  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

"  Now  Aunt  Esther,  what  makes  you  laugh  ?" 

"  What  makes  you  ?" 

"  Why  because  you  look  so  funny,"  said  Chryssa. 
"But  wrouldu't  it  be  bad  if  it  should  rain  to- 
morrow ?" 

"  Why  no,  love — it  would  be  good, — everything 
is  good  that  God  orders.  And  now  it  would 
be  good  if  my  little  Chryssa  were  to  pick  up 
that  neglected  geography  which  lies  on  the  floor, 
and  make  some  use  of  it." 

Lessons  went  on  accordingly.  Then  came  din- 
ner ;  then  Chryssa  began  to  copy  a  letter,  while 
Mrs.  Rutherford  sat  by  and  directed. 

"  Take  care  Chryssa — you  don't  want  that  last 
letter." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said,  C,  a,  k, — " 

"  C,  a,  is  pronounced  like  the  letter  k  ; — I  did 
not  mean  you  to  put  that  down  too." 

"  Will  you  please  to  scratch  it  out  then,"  said 
Chryssa.  "  There's  one  good  thing  about  making 
mistakes  —  it  gives  me  such  a  nice  little  rest." 
And  then  shrugging  up  her  shoulders  she  said 
with  a  loner  breath, 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES.  63 

"  I'm  so  tired ;  and  I  haven't  run  about  one 
bit  to-day." 

"That  is  the  very  reason  you  are  tired.  Come, 
you  shall  not  write  any  more  :  get  Sybil  to  go 
and  ride  on  the  wooden  horse  with  you." 

Sybil  was  soon  found  and  very  ready  for  play 
of  any  kind  ;  so  with  one  more  hopeless  look  at 
the  weather,  the  children  proceeded  upstairs  to 
the  garret, — their  play  room  when  the  sky-roofed 
one  had  taken  to  itself  an  under  roofing  of  clouds 
or  a  wet  floor. 

The  garret  was  large  and  light,  with  many 
little  oval  windows,  where  the  spiders  flourished 
and  flies  met  their  fate  ;  and  whose  dusty  panes 
gave  a  very  gloomy  view  of  things.  On  one  side 
of  the  garret  a  locked  door  shut  off  various 
stored  away  articles  from  busy  hands  and  eyes : 
on  another  a  ladder  led  up  to  a  kind  of  open 
loft,  the  landing-place  on  the  way  to  the  sky- 
light. It  was  a  queer  looking  dark  region  up 
there,  with  bits  of  lumber,  old  chairs,  and  an 
immense  piece  of  pitch  pine  poking  themselves 
out   from   the   obscurity.      Nobody   ever   went   up 


64  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

there, — only  once  Chryssa  could  remember  seeing 
her  aunt  follow  Garret  up  the  ladder  when  the 
kitchen  chimney  had  amused  itself  by  making  a 
bonfire,  and  everybody  was  afraid  that  the  roof 
would  follow  the  example. 

But  down  below,  in  the  garret  itself,  all  was 
bright  enough,  despite  the  cobwebbed  windows. 
In  the  middle  hung  a  fine  swing,  securely  fastened 
to  one  of  the  beams  ;  near  by  stood  the  wooden 
horse  ;  a  hook  and  ring  were  on  one  of  the  up- 
right timbers  ;  and  at  one  end  of  the  garret  dolls 
and  tin  dishes  marked  out  a  more  special  play- 
room. 

To-day  the  swing  claimed  first  attention  ;  and 
as  the  wide  seat  would  admit  them  both,  Chryssa 
climbed  in  and  placed  herself  with  her  face  to- 
wards the  doll  end  of  the  garret,  while  Sybil 
turned  her  looks  in  the  opposite  direction,  and 
then  making  great  efforts  she  touched  the  ground 
with  her  toes  again  and  again  till  the  swing  be- 
gan to  move,  after  which  a  very  little  push  kept 
it  going  fast  enough.  And  then  they  both  began 
to  sing. 


THE     WET      STRAWBERRIES.  65 

"Swing!  swing!  as  high  as  you  can! 
Hold  fast  of  the  rope  and  don't  be  afraid ; 
The  rafter  is  wide, 
And  the  rope  is  well  tied, 
And  the  knots  and  the  seat  are  carefully  made. 

"Play!  play!  it's  pleasant  to  play, — 
It's  pleasant  to  laugh,  and  pleasant  to  sing. 
And  though  it  does  rain, 
We  will  not  complain — 
People  ought  to  be  happy  without  everything." 

"How  nice  the  dolls  look,"  said  Chryssa,  when 
they  had  gone  through  the  air  once  or  twice  in 
silence. 

"  Yes,  they  look  pretty  well" — said  Sybil  with  a 
contemplative  air.  "I  don't  know  either,  Chryssa 
— it  strikes  me  that  Miss  Jenkins  wants  bleed- 
ing,— just  look  at  her  arms." 

"  But  they're  always  that  colour,"  said  Chryssa, 
— "if  you  were  to  bleed  her  ever  so  much  you 
couldn't  make  her  arms  white." 

"I  don't  care" — said  Sybil,  "I'm  going  to 
try." 

'And  down  she  jumped,  and  seized  Miss  Jenkins, 
whcse  arms  were  of  a  very  decided  pink  kid. 

"  Now  I  shall  take   this   big  pin  for  a  lancet," 


66  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES 

said  Sybil,  "  and  you  can  hold  that  little  wooden 
pail  Chryssa  instead  of  a  basin." 

"  But  the  little  wooden  pail's  got  beads  in  it," 
said  Chryssa. 

"  Turn  'em  out — there,  into  that  tin  box. 
Come  !" 

A  few  pointed  applications  of  the  pin  to  the 
pink  kid  plainly  showed  what  the  inside  of  Miss 
Jenkins'  arm  was  made  of ;  for  some  grains  of 
bran  began  to  sprinkle  the  bottom  of  the  little 
wooden  pail,  and  the  doll's  arm  did  not  indeed 
grow  less  pink  but  much  less  round  and  hard 
than  it  had  been  before. 

"  Her  arms  won't  be  alike  now,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  What'll  you  do  with  this  one  ?  it  don't  look 
pretty." 

"0  1  don't  know" — said  Sybil,  "never  mind. 
Stuff  it." 

How  long  they  might  have  played  and  talked 
in  the  garret  is  uncertain,  for  at  this  moment  it 
received  a  most  unexpected  visiter  in  the  shape  of 
a  long  sunbeam.  During  their  play  the  weather 
had  been  gradually  improving,  and  at  length  this 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES.  67 

one  ray  escaped  from  its  cloudy  prison  and  lit 
up  all  in  its  way — the  cloud,  the  wet  tree  tops, 
the  glittering  blades  of  grass,  the  dusty  garret 
window  and  its  brown  timbers,  and  the  intent  lit- 
tle faces  that  bent  over  Miss  Jenkins.  Down 
went  the  doll,  regardless  of  consequences, — down 
went  both  children  to  the  parlour. 

"What  in  the  world  is  the  matter?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Rutherford  as  Sybil  burst  in.  "  Has  Chryssa 
fallen  out  of  the  swing?" 

"0  no  ma'am,  not  at  all, — but  don't  you  see 
that  sunbeam  ?" 

"I  see  more  than  one,  but  what  then?" 

"  Why  the  strawberries,"  said  Chryssa,  her  breath 
just  enough  for  those  three  words. 

"  Strawberries  !  And  how  are  you  to  get  at 
them?  the  grass  is  as  wet  as  possible." 

"But  they're  not  in  the  grass,"  said  Sybil. 

"  But  they  are  in  their  own  vines,  which  is  just 
as  bad. 

And  the  sunbeam  faded  again. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  after  a  little 
pause,    "I   believe   I    must    try   what    I    can   do 


68  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

Get   my  overshoes  Sybil,  and  you  Chryssa  a  bas- 
ket" 

"Mayn't  I  get  two?"  said  Chryssa.  "Mayn't 
I  go  with  you  ?" 

But  this  could  not  be  ;  and  as  the  next  best 
thing  they .  ran  up  and  seated  themselves  on  the 
stairs  by  the  entry  window,  to  watch  their  aunt, 
and  consider  the  question  of  her  bringing  home 
the  basket  full  or  half  full  or  empty.  Also 
whether  she  got  a  ripe  strawberry  every  time  she 
stooped  down,  or  whether  her  hand  dived  in 
among  the  wet  leaves  to  no  purpose  but  that  of 
a  cold  bath. 

"I  am  sure  she  got  one  that  time,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  No  she  didn't ;  I  was  watching  the  basket 
all  the  while." 

"  But  you  can't  see  it." 

"Yes  I  can — down  there  on  the  walk." 

"0  1  see,"  said  Chryssa.  "Maybe  she  put 
one  in  her  mouth  then.  0  I  wish  I  was  there  ! 
— that  was  one — I  saw  it  !" 

"  How  she    holds    up    her    frock !"   said    Sybil 


THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES.  69 

laughing,  "  but  then  she  always  has  such  nice 
white  stockings.  There,  she's  coming  back, — I 
guess  she's  tired  poking  about  in  those  wet  beds. 
Don't  go  down  yet,  Chryssa — wait  till  she  gets 
under  the  window  and  then  we  can  look  right 
into  the  basket.  Oh  dear  !  why  does  she  stop  to 
look  at  that  laburnum  !" 

"  It's  very  pretty  I'm  sure,"  said  Chryssa.  "  O 
let  me  open  the  window  one  minute — I  must, — 
Aunt  Esther !  please  bring  me  a  May  rose  ! 
(they're  June  roses  I  think) — Don't  get  your  feet 
wet ! — Did  you  get  any  strawberries  ?" 

"  No  wonder  she  laughs,"  said  Sybil.  "  She  can't 
scream  out  answers  to  all  your  questions,  child." 

"  She  nodded  her  head  though,  if  she  did 
laugh,"  said  Chryssa.  "01  can  see  the  straw- 
berries !  look  Sybil,  how  red  the  basket  is.  She's 
got  a  great  many !  Come,  let's  go,"  and  away 
she  ran. 

"  Ah  please  hold  the  basket  down  Aunt  Esther, 
'cause  I  can't  see.  How  good  you  were  to  go  ! 
I'm  so  much  obliged  to  you  !  What  a  splendid 
parcel  you've  got." 


•JO  THE     WET     STRAWBERRIES. 

"  I  did  not  bring  your  rose,  Chryssa,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford, — "there  was  so  much  wet  grass  be- 
tween me  and  the  rosebushes  that  I  thought  best 
not  to  venture." 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  didn't  dear  Aunty, — the 
strawberries  '11  do  for  one  night  I  should  think. 
But  shan't  we  keep  'em  till  Uncle  Ruth  comes 
home,  and  then  eat  'em  all  together  ?" 

"With  all  my  heart, — I  don't  think  there  are 
enough  to  hurt  us  if  we  do  eat  them  '  all  to- 
gether,'" said  her  aunt. 

Whether  Chryssa  thought  that  the  words  spoke 
some  doubt  of  the  wholesomeness  of  strawberries 
in  general,  or  of  these  in  particular  ;  certain  it 
is  that  she  looked  very  soberly  into  the  little 
basket  as  she  walked  off  to  set  it  in  the  pan- 
try. 


^U^- 


•I  '     ' 


CHAPTER  Y. 


HEADACHE      AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS. 


A  ND  for   several   days  they  were  very  busy  an  J 

happy  ;  for   the    strawberries   ripened  fast  and 

little   fingers   and   baskets    made   frequent  visits  to 

the  beds.     But  one  inornins: — whether  it  was  that 


72         HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS. 

she  had  been  too  much  in  the  hot  sun,  or  had 
eaten  too  many  strawberries,  or  both,  —  Chryssa 
got  up  with  a  headache. 

"You  couldn't  have  gone  out  much  to-day, 
any  way,"  said  Sybil,  "for  it  rained  last  night, 
and  the  grass  is  all  wet." 

"  Well  1"  said  Chryssa  with  a  rather  long  breath, 
"  but  I  wish  my  head  didn't  ache." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Sybil,  "  we'll  go  and 
sit  in  the  bath  house." 

"I  don't  think  I  want  to  go,"  said  Chryssa. 

"And  I  doubt  very  much  whether  you  had 
better,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"Why  Aunt  Esther  the  air's  good  for  her 
head  ;  and  I've  got  a  great  deal  to  tell  you, 
Chryssa,  —  you'd  better  come.  I'm  going  to 
take  my  pillow-case  there  to  hem." 

"Well,  I'll  go,"  said  Chryssa,  though  rather 
doubtfully.  "Maybe  it  won't  make  my  head  any 
worse."  And  putting  on  her  sunbonnet  she  went 
slowly  down  the  nagged  walk  to  the  bathing- 
house, — a  little  square  building  with  a  window 
and  a  door,   and  a    green  shower-bath   overhead. 


HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS.  73 

Thither  Sybil's  quicker  steps  had  already  brought 
her  ;  and  she  was  sewing  very  busily  when  Chryssa 
came  in  and  placed  herself  on  a  bench  at  her 
feet. 

"  What  did  you  want  to  tell  me,  Sybil  V  she 
said  wearily. 

"What  do  you  think? — come,  guess." 

"0  no,  indeed  I  can't,  you  must  tell  me." 

"Well  then,  Mary  says  that  her  cousin  has  got 
ever  so  many  little  kittens,  and  she  says  the  next 
time  she  goes  to  Canterbury  she'll  get  us  two." 

Chryssa  did  smile  in  spite  of  her  headache. 

"  I'm  very  glad  !  how  nice  it  will  be.  You'll 
have  one  and  I'll  have  the  other.  And  0  Sybil, 
what  colour  will  they  be  ?  do  you  think  they'll 
be  both  alike  ?" 

"I  don't  know — I  told  her  not  to  get  black 
ones  if  she  could  help  it,  but  I  suppose  she'll 
have  to  take  what  her  cousin  gives  her." 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  said  Chryssa  again  as  she 
sat  pressing  one  little  hand  on  each  side  of  her 
face,  "  but  I  must  go  into  the  house,  my  head 
aches  so.     I  can't  stay  here." 

4 


74  HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS. 

"I  don't  care  if  I  go  too,"  said  Sybil,  "it's 
hot  here,  and  then  you  can  lie  down." 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  parlour  Mi- 
chael had  got  back  from  town  ;  and  he  came 
and  stood  in  the  parlour  door  and  said  very 
gravely, 

"Miss  Errick  is  dead,  ma'am." 

There  was  a  general  exclamation,  for  this 
acquaintance  of  theirs  had  been  quite  well  when 
they  last  heard  from  her.  But  Michael  could 
tell  them  no  particulars  ;  he  had  merely  heard 
the  news,  and  that  Mr.  Rutherford  was  to  go 
to  the  funeral  that  afternoon. 

It  would  pass  along  the  turnpike,  and  when 
it  was  first  seen  from  the  windows  the  children 
went  down  and  stood  under  the  willow-tree  where 
they  could  watch  the  procession. 

As  they  stood  there  silent  and  sober,  Garret 
came  up  ;  and  after  standing  by  them  a  few 
minutes  he  broke  off  a  willow  twig,  and  sitting 
down  on  the  dog  house  he  began  to  twist  and 
weave  a  ring  for  Chryssa's  middle  finger.  Then 
he   made   one   for  Sybil,   and  then  both    children 


HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS.  75 

begged  him  to  teach  them  this  new  kind  of 
goldsmith  work.  But  by  the  time  it  was  learned 
Chryssa's  head  grew  worse  again,  and  she  grew 
pale  and  was  fain  to  go  upstairs  and  lie  down 
on  the  bed. 

The  west  windows  were  open,  and  as  the  child 
lay  there  looking  out  and  breathing  in  the  sweet 
air,  she  thought  —  in  most  unphilosophical  lan- 
guage certainly — that  nothing  out  of  doors  looked 
as  if  it  had  the  headache.  It  was  queer  too, 
but  the  thought  rather  soothed  her  own  ;  it 
was  like  some  soft  cool  hand  upon  her  hot  fore- 
head. 

"  What  smells  so  sweet,  Aunt  Esther  ?"  she 
said. 

"  The  locust  flowers." 

"0  are  they  out?"  said  Chryssa,  half  raising 
herself,  "  and  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  them ! 
What  do  they  look  like  V 

"  Like  the  laburnum  flowers  except  in  colour. 
Don't  you  see  something  very  white  on  that  tree 
at  the  end  of  the  grove  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Chryssa  sinking   back,   "I  think  T 


76         HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS. 

do,  but  the  sun  is  so  bright. — Are  there  many 
flowers  out  ?" 

"  Not  a  great  many ;  the  trees  are  young 
yet." 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  about  the  flowers  Aunt 
Esther  ?" 

"  What  shall  I  tell  you  ?"  said  her  aunt 
smiling.  "  They  are  perfectly  pure  white — almost 
transparent, — as  pure  as  all  christians  will  be 
when  they  come  to  heaven,  — '  without  spot  or 
wrinkle  or  any  such  thing.'  And  they  are  very, 
very  sweet,  —  sending  their  perfume  to  a  great 
distance.  And  so,  Chryssie,  when  God's  children 
are  what  they  ought  to  be  —  when  they  love 
him  and  do  his  will — all  their  influence  is  like 
the  fragrance  of  those  locust  flowers.  It  makes 
the  very  name  of  Christian  sweet, — it  spreads 
abroad  through  the  world  drawing  everybody 
towards  what  is  'lovely  and  of  good  report,'" 

"  Did  Uncle  Ruth  plant  all  those  trees  ?"  said 
Chryssa  after  a  little  while. 

"  Yes." 

And  then  she  lay  quite  still  for  some  time. 


HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS.  77 

There  Mr.  Rutherford  found  her  when  he  came 
home,  with  her  head  on  the  pillow  and  the  warm 
sunshine  falling  over  her  feet. 

"I  am  very  sorry  your  head  aches,  my  darling," 
he  said  bending  down  to  kiss  her. 

"Yes  TTncle  Ruth— 0  it  will  be  better  by 
and  by." 

"  How  pleasant  it  is  to  think  that  in  heaven 
there  will  be  '  no  more  pain  nor  sorrow  nor  cry- 
ing, nor  any  more  death/"  said  he. 

Chryssa  smiled,  and  a  little  flush  came  over 
her  face. 

"  Papa  never  has  headaches  now,"  she  said. 

"Shall  I  read  to  you  Chryssa?"  said  her  uncle 
a  moment  after. 

"  If  ,you  please,  Uncle  Ruth,  if  it  won't  tire 
you.  There  is  '  Idle  Hours'  on  the  bed  ;  I  tried 
to  read  but  it  hurt  my  eyes." 

And  Mr.  Rutherford  read  the  story  of  "  Little 
Zoe,"  and  of  her  being  sick,  and  such  a  good 
child.  And  by  and  by  Chryssa  began  to  think 
that  she  was  sick — and  then  that  she  was  a  bee 
humming   about   that   very  bunch   of    locust   flow- 

8* 


78  HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS. 

ers  on  which  the  sun  had  shone  so  brightly  ;  and 
then — she  opened  her  eyes  and  found  that  she 
had  been  asleep,  and  that  the  sun  was  down  and 
the  tea-bell  ringing.  And  there  on  the  bed  lay 
the  bunch  of  locust  flowers  1 

"  Your  head  must  be  better,"  said  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford, smiling  at  the  eagerness  with  which  the 
child  threw  herself  upon  that  sweet  tribute  from 
the  woods. 

"  0  yes,"  said  Chryssa — "  0  how  sweet  these 
are  !  How  could  TTncle  Ruth  get  them  ?  I  thought 
the  tree  was  too  high." 

"That  bunch  was  on  the  end  of  a  bough  that 
hung  down  within  reach.     But  come,  tea  is  ready." 

And  lifting  her  off  the  bed,  for  she  looked  a 
little  pale  yet,  Mrs.  Rutherford  brushed  her  hair 
till  it  looked  something  like  a  sunbeam  itself,  and 
then  they  went  down  to  tea. 

"May  I  eat  any  strawberries?"  said  Chryssa  as 
she  saw  the  heaped-up  glass  dish  which  stood  on 
the  table. 

"  Not  to-night  I  think." 

And  going   round  to   the  corner  of    the    table 


HEADACHE     AND     LOCUST     FLOWERS.  ii> 

next  her  aunt,  Chryssa  stood  there  with  the  locust 
flowers  in  one  hand  and  a  soda  biscuit  in  the 
other,  seasoning  the  second  with  the  first,  and 
now  and  then  casting  a  look  at  the  strawberries. 


gsgfev. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE 


GYBIL'S  birthday  was  at  hand  ;  and  some  hearts 

were  full   of  expectation,   and   many   heads   of 

preparation  for  its  coming.     Company  was  invited, 

and   rooms  were   arranged,  and   white   frocks  were 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  81 

spotlessly  done  up.  Moreover  Aunt  Esther  made 
some  of  her  spunge  cake — such  as  nobody  else 
could  make, — at  least  so  thought  Chryssa,  who 
had  watched  the  making  and  baking  and  icing 
with  perfect  pleasure  and  content.  It  was  such 
a  big  cake  too — the  whole  size  of  the  bakepan, — 
little  pound  cakes  by  the  side  of  it  made  small 
show,  only  the  piece  of  citron  in  each  stuck  up 
its  head  as  much  as  to  say, — "/am  good,"  while 
everybody  must  admire  the  hearts  and  diamonds 
and  rounds  and  ovals  in  which  they  were  baked. 
Then  the  loaves  of  bread  looked  so  brown  and 
smelled  so  sweet ;  and  china  and  glass  dishes 
looked  so  pleasant  and  sociable  as  they  came  out 
of  the  pantry.  One  would  have  supposed  they 
had  been  new  gilt  for  the  occasion,  and  had 
never  looked  bright  before. 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Sybil  the  afternoon  before 
the  important  Tuesday,  "you  won't  forget  my 
wreath  V 

"What  wreath?" 

"Why  you  promised  to  make  me  a  wreath  for 

4* 


82  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

my  birthday  !"  said  Sybil  throwing  down  her  book. 
"  Don't  you  remember  ?" 

"  Mayn't  I  have  a  wreath  too  ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"No,  of  course  not,"  said  Sybil.  "You  can 
have  a  wreath  on  your  own  birthday — you  don't 
want  one  on  mine, — it  would  be  foolish." 

Chryssa  looked  a  little  disappointed. 

"I  don't  see  that,  Sybil,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 
"  I  may  as  well  dress  Chryssa  with  flowers  in 
honour  of  your  birthday,  as  the  vases  in  the 
drawing-room.  I  can  easily  make  the  wreaths  of 
different  flowers,  and  put  some  distinguishing  mark 
upon  yours,  that_  nobody  may  doubt  who  is  the 
queen  of  the  day." 

"I  don't  care  about  being  a  queen  if  there  are 
too  many  princesses,"  said  Sybil.  "  I  sha'n't  have 
a  wreath  if  everybody  else  has." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  have  one,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  Aunt  Esther's  going  to  make  only  one,  for  you." 

"  Or  only  two,"  said  her  aunt. 

"You  needn't  make  two"  said  Sybil  significantly, 
and  the  subject  was  dropped  for  a  few  minutes. 
Then  the  discontented  little  lady  began  again. 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  S3 

"  I  think  it's  very  stupid  for  two  people  to  be 
wearing  wreaths.  And  why  should  Chryssa  have 
one  ?  It  isn't  her  birthday — she's  nothing  to  do 
with  it." 

"0  Sybil!"  said  Chryssa.  "You  know  I  al- 
ways enjoy  it  very  much." 

"  Well  then  you'll  be  happy  enough  without  a 
wreath." 

"  That  is  neither  kind  nor  wise,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford. 

"  I  don't  care,"  was  the  reply ;  and  Sybil's 
mood  ended  in  a  flood  of  tears.  Nor  were  hers 
the  only  ones,  for  very  sympathizing  and  implor- 
ing drops  were  in  Chryssa's  eyes  as  well.  But 
they  only  aggravated  Sybil's  displeasure. 

"What  are  you  crying  for?"  she  said.  "Aunt 
Esther  hasn't  been  scolding  you, — I  do  wish  you 
wouldn't  do  everything  that  I  do." 

Mrs.  Rutherford  looked  at  her  watch. 

"  We  are  going  to  walk  on  the  turnpike,  Sybil," 
she  said,  "if  you  wish  to  go  you  must  get  ready 
at  Once." 

She  went  upstairs,  followed  by  Chryssa  who  had 


84  WHAT     SHALL     1     GIVE? 

just  lingered  one  minute  to  beg  her  sister  to 
come — "she  couldn't  go  without  her." 

And  Sybil  did  come,  but  she  was  so  long  put- 
ting on  her  things  that  the  others  were  half  way 
to  the  gate  before  she  made  her  appearance. 
She  stood  in  the  hall-door  for  a  moment  and 
then  called  out, 

"  Aunt  Esther — won't  you  come  back  and  tie 
my  bonnet  ?     It's  in  a  knot  and  it's  too  loose." 

"  I  will  tie  it  if  you  will  come  here,"  said  her 
aunt. 

"  May  I  go  back  and  do  it  ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  ;  and  after  stand- 
ing for  a  moment  as  still  on  the  walk  as  was 
Sybil  in  the  hall-door,  they  turned  and  walked 
on,  though  Chryssa  almost  walked  backwards— 
so  constant  was  her  desire  to  watch  the  door. 
But  the  same  dismal-looking  little  figure  stood 
there  yet,  as  long  as  she  could  see  it. 

Chryssa  walked  on  with  a  very  heavy  heart, 
and  two  or  three  little  sighs  were  heard  that 
were  quite  out  of  keeping  with  the  song  of  the 
birds  in   the   hedge.      She   was    thinking  what    a 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  85 

pleasant  walk  they  might  have  had  ;  and  now 
she  didn't  want  to  walk  at  all,  but  would  rather 
have  been  at  home. 

They  had  reached  the  turnpike,  and  Chryssa's 
little  feet  were  going  very  thoughtfully  along  in 
the  dust,  when  a  loud  noise  on  the  other  side 
of  the  road  made  her  start  and  squeeze  Mrs. 
Rutherford's  hand  with  all  her  might.  She  looked 
across.  A  little  blue  cloud  of  smoke  was  just 
blowing  away,  and  a  little  boy-neighbour  of  theirs 
was  walking  along  and  looking  at  her.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  little  brass  cannon,  and  while 
Chryssa  looked  it  was  loaded  and  fired  off  for 
the  second  time. 

Kow  the  noise  was  certainly  not  very  tremen- 
dous, and  Mrs.  Rutherford  assured  Chryssa  they 
were  in  no  danger  of  being  shot,  but  the  little 
cannon  did  full  execution  nevertheless.  Chryssa 
put  Mrs.  Rutherford  between  her  and  the  mis- 
chief-maker, and  then  she  walked  on  in  alternate 
fear  and  fright ;  for  the  cannon  was  loaded  and 
fired  just  as  fast  as  Master  Theodore's  fingers 
could  manage  that  operation. 


86  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

"Theodore,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  at  length, 
"don't  you  know  that  you  frighten  this  little 
girl  very  much  ?" 

Theodore  looked  at  her  but  made  no  answer, 
except  that  a  little  smile  on  his  face  seemed  to 
say  he  had  suspected  as  much  before,  and  an- 
other discharge  followed  immediately.  Chryssa 
was  forced  to  stand  fire,  till  to  her  great  joy 
they  turned  a  corner  which  Master  Theodore  did 
not. 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa  presently,  "please 
don't  tell  Mrs.  Delue." 
"  Why  not  ?" 

"Because — I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa,  "but 
I  wish  you  wouldn't.  O  see  !  Aunt  Esther — there 
comes  the  carriage,  and  there's  Henry  too  !" 

Henry  was  there,  in  truth,  and  not  long  either  ; 
for  in  some  mysteriously  quick  way  he  was  out 
of  the  carriage  and  had  his  arms  round  his 
mother's  neck  in  all  manner  of  joy  and  delight. 

"  And  here's  one  of  the  young  ones,"  he  said 
at  length  taking  her  up  in  his  arms.  "  How  do 
you  do  Chrysocoma  ?  are  you  glad  to  see  me  ?" 


WHAT     SHALL    I     GIVE?  81 

"Yes,  I'm  very  glad,"  said  Chryssa  laughing. 
"But  what  makes  you  call  me  so?" 

"  I  didn't  call  you  so — I  called  you  Chrysocoma." 

"  Well  what  does  that  mean  ?"  said  Chryssa 
laying  her  face  alongside  of  his,  by  which  means 
her  hat  fell  off. 

"Why  it  means  'golden  locks,'"  said  Henry  as 
he  jumped  into  the  carriage  but  still  holding  her 
fast.  "  You  look  as  if  you  had  rolled  your  head 
about  in  the  sunshine."  , 

Chryssa  laughed,  and  laid  her  head  back 
against  him  with  an  air  of  great  content. 

"  Harry,  we're  going  to  have  two  kittens,"  she 
said. 

"  Two  kittens  !  why  we  had  two  before." 

"  But  I  mean  real  kittens." 

"  For  me  to  play  with  ?" 

"  No,  not  for  you — for  me  and  Sybil — at  least 
for  Sybil  and  me." 

And  at  the  thought  of  Sybil  Chryssa  became 
grave  again,  and  her  eyes  fell.  But  only  as  far 
as  the  cushion,  for  there  they  saw  a  thin  pack- 
age which  looked  suspiciously  like  a  book. 


88  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

"Take  it  up  and  open  it,  Chryssie,"  said  Mr. 
Rutherford  smiling.     "  It's  for  you." 

"For  me!"  said  Chryssa.  "0  thank  you 
Uncle  Ruth  !"  and  her  little  fingers  were  soon 
busy  with  the  twine. 

"  But  oh  you  forgot !"  she  said  stopping  short 
when  one  knot  was  untied,  "you  forgot,  Uncle 
Ruth — it  isn't  my  birthday,  it's  Sybil's." 

"  And  can't  people  ever  have  presents  except 
on  their  birthdays  ?"  said  her  uncle  smiling. 

"  Why  yes,"  said  Chryssa  untieing  knot  nurnbei* 
two  and  knot  number  three,  "  but  I  didn't 
expect  it.  But  haven't  you  got  something  for 
Sybil  ?" 

"  We'll  see  when  to-morrow  comes." 

And  Chryssa  untied  the  last  knot  with  a  better 
satisfied  look,  which  changed  into  one  of  great 
pleasure  as  she  beheld  a  little  square  blue  Peter 
Parley's  First  book  of  History  ;  especially  as  she 
felt  quite  sure  that  the  brown  paper  in  her  uncle's 
lap  could  contain  nothing  but  a  present. 

They  had  a  merry  tea  drinking  that  night — 
even   Sybil  laughed   and   talked  almost  as  usual  -. 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  89 

though  there  was  now  and  then  a  shade  upon 
her  face  that  her  uncle  knew  must  come  from 
some  unseen  cloud.  After  tea  when  the  others 
had  gone  out  into  the  garden,  and  she  yet  stood 
rather  moodily  by  the  window,  Mr.  Rutherford 
came  and  sat  down  by  her,  and  drawing  her 
down  upon  his  lap  he  kissed  her,  and  asked 
her  if  she  was  glad  to  be  so  near  eleven  years 
old. 

"  I  don't  know,  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Sybil,  her 
eyes  filling  fast  at  his  kind  words, — "  I  thought 
I  should  be." 

"And  how  comes  it  that  you  are  not?"  said 
he  gently. 

"  I  don't  know," — said  Sybil  again,  and  still 
looking  out  of  the  window.  "  I  believe  I  was 
cross  to-day,  and  it  isn't  pleasant  to  be  cross  on 
one's  birthday,  and  I  wish  it  was  any  other  day 
in  the  year,  I'm  sure." 

"  But  instead  of  trying  to  get  rid  of  the  day 
hadn't  we  better  get  rid  of  being  cross  ?"  said 
her  uncle. 

"  But   I   can't,"   said   Sybil.     "  You   see,   Uncle 


90  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

Ruth,  Aunt  Esther  promised  to  make  me  a 
wreath  to  wear  to-morrow  ;  and  then  what  must 
Chryssa  do  but  want  one  too.  And  Aunt  Esther 
thinks  she  ought  to  have  it,  and  I  say  it's  very 
stupid  ;  and  it  makes  me  cross  whenever  I  think 
of  it." 

"  Well  let  us  leave  that  for  a  while,"  said  her 
uncle,  "  and  go  back  to  something  you  said  a 
minute  ago.  Why  is  it  particularly  disagreeable 
to  be  cross  on  one's  birthday  ?  It  is  certainly 
so,  but  why  ?" 

"  Because   one   ought   to   be    particularly   good, 
I  suppose,"  said  Sybil. 
"  And  why  ought  one  ?" 
Sybil  hesitated,  and  her  uncle  spoke  again. 
"  There   was   once    a   child   travelling    along    a 
road  where   there   were    a  great  many  toll-gates. 
Her  home  lay  at   the   end   of  the  road,  and   all 
along,   from    gate    to    gate,   the   way  was    some- 
times  pleasant,    and   sometimes   difficult ;   yet  had 
she   written   directions   for   her   journey,   which   if 
followed   would    'make   the    rough  places   smooth' 
and  give  her  always  '  straight  paths  for  her  feet.' 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  91 

Now  these  toll-gates  were  in  reality  all  at  the 
same  distance  apart,  yet  they  did  not  seem  so. 
For  a  while  they  seemed  so  far  from  each  other 
that  it  was  quite  an  event  to  reach  one,  and 
quite  an  amusement  to  pay  the  toll  ;  and  the 
little  traveller  marched  up  with  quick  steps  and 
laid  down  a  book,  or  a  plaything,  or  it  might 
be,  pantalettes.  And  the  old  man  at  the  gate 
always  gave  something  in  return  ;  a  few  trifles 
at  first,  with  which  the  child  was  so  pleased 
that  she  noticed  not  one  little  light  straw  which 
the  old  man  bound  upon  her  shoulders  ;  and 
each  one  added  another  straw. 

"  Several  of  these  gates  were  passed,  and  yet 
the  child  had  hardly  looked  back  ;  but  one  day 
it  came  into  her  heart  to  stop  and  think  ;  and 
sitting  down  just  before  the  next  gate,  she 
looked  over  all  the  road  she  had  come.  It 
looked  very  small  —  and  she  had  thought  it  so 
long. 

"'That  is  the  first  gate  I  remember,'  she  said 
to  herself ;  '  and  when  I  came  to  the  next  one 
it   rained,  and  the  man  gave   me  two   straws  to 


92  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

carry,  and  not  much  else.  And  between  that 
and  the  next  one  I  was  so  very  sick,  and  it 
tired  me  to  go  on.  But  God  let  me  live  and 
not  die,  and  he  has  taken  care  of  me  every 
bit  of  the  way.' 

"  She  turned  then  and  looked  forward  over  the 
road  she  had  to  go.  But  she  could  not  see 
much  of  it — she  could  not  even  count  the  gates, 
though  she  thought  she  saw  a  great  many. 
And  a  wish  came  over  her  that  God  would 
guide  her  past  them  as  he  had  hitherto  done  ; 
and  then  she  began  to  think  within  herself 
what  she  should  lay  down  at  the  next  gate, 
for  it  was  very  near.  Some  childish  habit  or 
dress  or  plaything  did  not  seem  enough — she 
was  thinking  less  of  herself  now,  for  she  thought 
of  these  words, — '  What  shall  I  render  unto  the 
Lord  for  all  his  benefits  towards  me  V  And 
remembering  the  disciples  who  left  all  to  follow 
Christ,  she  prayed  that  at  this  next  gate  she 
might  lay  down  every  evil  word  and  work,  and 
give  herself  wholly  unto  the  Lord, — to  be  his 
dear  child,  his  willing  servant,  forever." 


WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE?  93 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  falling  upon 
Sybil's  head  as  her  uncle  spoke  these  last  words, 
but  she  heeded  them  not.  Her  head  was  upon 
his  breast,  and  she  was  sobbing  out  tears  of  sor- 
row and  shame  and  better  purposes.  The  cross- 
ness was  all  gone  now,  and  only  a  little  sore 
pain  about  her  heart  told  that  it  had  ever  been. 

"  Shall  we  lay  down  all  this  ?"  whispered  her 
uncle ;  "  and  take  up  and  bear  the  name  of 
Christ  with  earnest  prayer  and  endeavour  to  be 
changed  into  his  likeness?" 

"  We,  Uncle  Ruth  ?"  she  said  looking  up  in 
some  surprise. 

"  We,  love.  You  at  your  gate  and  I  at 
mine." 

"  But  what  have  you  to  lay  down,  Uncle 
Ruth?"  said  Sybil.  "Do  people  always  lay  down 
something  ?" 

"Always — through  their  whole  life.  I  have 
laid  down  many  a  tiling  at  these  gates,  Sybil  ; 
a  dear  friend  sometimes,  and  sometimes  I  trust 
a  little  of  my  own  self  will.  Or  if  not — remem- 
ber  this — if    nothing    evil  is   laid   down,    then    do 


94  WHAT     SHALL     I     GIVE? 

we  lose  something  good, — if  we  are  no  nearer 
to  God  than  we  were  last  year,  then  are  we 
further  off;  and  we  have  not  merely  lost  the 
year,  but  we  have  fallen  back  in  our  way  to 
heaven." 

"  And  what  does  the  man  at  the  gate  give 
you,  "Uncle  Ruth  ?"  said  Sybil  laying  her  hand 
caressingly  upon  his  face. 

"  Different  things — "  said  he  smiling.  "  Two 
little  daughters  to  love,  and  better  hopes  for 
them  and  of  them.  When  he  can  find  nothing 
else  he  throws  down  a  little  snow  on  my  head." 

"  0  Uncle  Ruth  !  he  shall  not  !"  and  Sybil's 
arms  were  clasped  tight  round  her  uncle's  neck. 

"  And  do  you  like  to  look  forward  to  the 
other  gates  ?"   she  said  presently. 

"  I  like  to  look  over  them.  I  am  not  careful 
about  their  number  now,  dear  Sybil,  for  the 
heavenly  country  is  better  than  this." 

Sybil  looked  up  and  kissed  him  with  very 
tremulous  lips. 

"  I  will  try,"  she  whispered,  and  then  she 
broke  from  him  and  ran  upstairs. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


sybil's   birthday. 


rTlHE   sun  rose   amid   some   rather   doubtful-look- 
ing   gray   clouds,   but    the   wind    soon    swept 
them    away — even    while    Janet    and    her    broom 
went    through    the    parlours    for    the    last    time. 


96  sybil's    birthday. 

There  was  not  a  particle  of  dust  nor  of  cloud  to 
be  seen.  And  when  the  sun  got  higher  and 
poured  in  its  bright  light,  everything  looked 
clean, — as  clean  as  Sybil  had  prayed  last  night 
that  her  heart  might  be,  and  as  she  hoped  it 
had  really  become.  Poor  child !  she  did  not 
know  how  soon  the  world's  dust  would  find  its 
way  in  again,  nor  indeed  how  much  there  was 
yet  remaining.  Only  "he  that  is  dead  is  freed 
from  sin." 

"  Come  children  !  get  up  !"  clamoured  Henry  at 
their  door.  "  The  sun's  up,  though  it  isn't  his 
birthday." 

"  And  I  shan't  get  up,  if  it  is  mine,"  said  the 
half  awake  Sybil. 

"  I  say  Sybil  !"  pursued  Henry,  "  why  didn't  you 
come  to  meet  us  last  night?  I  forgot  to  ask  you." 

"  That's  nobody's  business,"  said  Sybil.  "  I 
didn't  choose  to  come." 

"  Don't  let  off  all  your  fireworks  this  morn- 
ing," said  Henry,  "  I  advise  you.  Keep  'em  for 
to-night.  They  don't  make  much  show  in  such 
sunshine." 


sybil's   birthday.  9? 

Sybil  started  up  in  desperation,  but  now  open- 
ing her  eyes  for  the  first  time  the  light  they  met 
silenced  her.  What  sunshine  it  was !  as  if  it 
came  from  the  world  beyond  all  those  gates  she 
must  pass  through.  They  were  very  sorrowful 
eyes  that  she  hid  again  in  the  pillow. 

Then  came  another  knock  at  the  door. 

"  Where's  Chrysocoma  ?    Is  she  asleep  too." 

"0  no  she's  not  asleep,"  said  Chryssa  in  a 
just  audible  whisper. 

"  Let  her  come  forth  then." 

"You'd  better  go  Chryssie,"  said  Sybil,  "only 
don't  pick  the  flowers  for  our  wreaths  till  I 
come." 

"  Are  we  going  to  have  wreaths  !"  exclaimed 
Chryssa.     "  At  least  I  mean  are  you  going  to  ?" 

"Yes,  and  so  are  you." 

Chryssa  bestowed  two  or  three  very  thankful 
kisses  upon  the  back  of  Sybil's  neck  and  went  off. 

"  Why  don't  Sybil  come  ?"  was  Henry's  first 
greeting. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa, — "  I  guess  she's 
tired.     And  she  isn't  dressed." 


SYBIL'S     BIRTHDAY. 


"  That's  a  reason.  But  as  to  being  tired,  peo- 
ple are  always  tired  when  they  ought  to  get  up." 

"  But  I  guess  she  is  tired,"  said  Chryssa — 
"she  looks  so.  And  I  don't  think  she  liked 
what  you  said  about  fireworks." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  did,"  said  Henry  laugh- 
ing. "  Ah  Chrysocoma  !  I  couldn't  think  what 
made  you  look  so  grave  at  me  this  morning. 
But  I  won't  tease  her  any  more,  and  I'll  beg 
her  pardon  for  that — if  she  ever  gets  up  so  as 
to  give  me  a  chance." 

After  breakfast  the  first  thing  was  to  pick 
flowers,  which  the  children  did  in  no  measured 
quantity ;  and  Chryssa  having  filled  her  basket 
filled  her  little  apron  as  well — chiefly  with  pop- 
pies, for  which  the  basket  had  found  no  room. 

"My  dear  Chryssa  !"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford, 
— "  what  am  I  to  do  with  so  many  poppies  ?  If.  I 
were  to  put  them  all  in  the  dish  there  would  be 
place  for  nothing  else." 

"  But  the  wreaths,"   said  Chryssa. 
"But  I  don't  believe  poppy  wreaths  would  be 
pretty." 


sybil's   birthday.  99 

"  0  Annt  Esther,  if  you'd  just  been  out  on  the 
gravel-walk,  you'd  have  seen  how  pretty  they 
looked." 

"  In  the  gravel-walk,  yes — but  on  your  head  V 

"If  you  have  a  poppy  wreath  Chryssa,"  said 
Henry,  "you'll  have  to  sit  in  the  corner  all  day 
and  nod." 

Chryssa  looked  very  puzzled  till  her  eyes  got 
down  to  her  apron  again, — then  they  brightened 
up. 

"  Just  look  at  this  little  red  one  Aunt  Esther 
— it's  so  black  in  the  middle, — and  here's  another 
that's  purple.  I  don't  know  I'm  sure  what  Harry 
means  by  nodding,  but  I  think  they're  beautiful." 

"  You  don't  know  what  I  mean  by  nodding  !" 
said  Henry — "look  here  then  and  I'll  shew  you," 
— which  he  did  till  Chryssa  nearly  dropped  the 
whole  apron  full  of  poppies  for  laughing. 

"Well  if  I  put  enough  poppies  in  the  vases 
you'll  let  me  make  the  wreaths  as  I  like  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford  when  Henry's  head  was  per- 
suaded to  remain  quiet. 

"  0   yes — unless"   said   Chryssa   hesitating,  "  un- 


100  sybil's   birthday. 

less  you  would  put  just  this  one  poppy  bud  in 
mine.  See  Aunt  Esther,  it's  white,  and  the 
leaves  aren't  open  yet." 

That  one  was  promised,  and  then  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford began  to  arrange  dishes  and  vases  and  flower 
tables  ;  now  and  then  laying  aside  some  particu- 
larly pretty  bud  or  leaf  for  the  wreaths.  When 
-  the  making  of  these  came,  it  was  hard  to  tell 
whether  the  children  were  most  pleased  or  curious. 
It  was  pretty  work.  The  flowers  were  so  fresh 
and  smelled  so  sweet,  and  Mrs.  Rutherford's  hand 
was  so  skilful.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  her  fasten 
down  the  stems  so  neatly,  and  then  to  see  a  leaf 
start  up  as  if  by  magic  to  cover  the  joining ; 
while  a  white  jessamine  poked  out  its  head  here 
and  a  rosebud  there,  just  as  if  they  had  sense,  and 
knew  where  they  were  wanted.  And  satisfaction 
was  complete  when  the  hair  on  both  little  heads 
being  nicely  brushed,  the  wreaths  were  put  on 
and  fitted  exactly.  Chryssa  thought  Sybil's  looked 
"splendid,"  and  took  for  granted  that  her  own 
could  not  be  far  behind  :  the  white  poppy  bud  at 
least,  must  look  well. 


sybil's    birthday.  101 

It  took  some  time  to  get  used  to  such  unusual 
adornments, — there  seemed  to  be  danger  of  their 
falling  off,  for  as  Chryssa  remarked,  "  what  could 
keep  them  on  ?"  and  the  first  going  down  stairs 
was  a  very  stately  affair.  But  both  heads  and 
wreaths  were  happily  forgottea  after  a  while. 

Friends  began  to  come  about  twelve  o'clock, 
and  many  of  them  brought  Sybil  some  little  pres- 
ent— a  painted  pincushion  or  a  basket.  One  or 
two  were  so  thoughtful  as  to  bring  Chryssa  some 
trifle  also,  which  not  being  expected  was  particu- 
larly welcome.  As  for  Sybil,  she  cared  less  about 
them,  having  found  her  plate  at  breakfast  loaded 
with  presents  that  she  liked  better ;  the  brown 
paper  especially  having  contained  a  most  beauti- 
ful book.  But  she  received  the  last  arrivals  gra- 
ciously enough,  and  returned  to  her  book  with 
new  pleasure. 

Many  of  the  guests  were  grown  up  people — as 
much  out  of  Chryssa's  sphere  as  she  was  out  of 
theirs  ;  so  after  speaking  to  them  all,  and  watch- 
ing with  some  interest  the  multitude  of  papers 
which   came   out   of    one   young    girl's    hair ;    she 


102  sybil's   birthday. 

took  possession  of  the  only  little  child  of 
the  party  (who  was  indeed  somewhat  smaller 
than  herself)  and  marched  her  out  upon  the 
lawn  to  see  the  flowers.  Chryssa  found  it  hard 
work.  Little  Emily  knew  none  of  her  old  friends 
in  the  borders,  nor  seemed  to  wish  to  make  their 
acquaintance.  She  would  not  say  whether  she 
thought  the  pink  or  the  blue  bachelor's  buttons 
were  the  prettiest ;  she  walked  right  over  the 
poppies  in  the  walk,  pulled  up  the  johnny-jump- 
ers, and  was  perfectly  insensible  to  the  charms  of 
"love  in  a  puzzle." 

Chryssa  was  in  despair. 

"  Shall  we  go  and  see  Garret  mow  ?"  she  said, 
directing  little  Emily's  eyes  and  ears  towards 
Garret  and  his  scythe.  The  immediate  answer 
was  the  deliberate  march  of  Miss  Emily's  red 
shoes  over  the  border,  taking  moss  pink  and  what 
other  trifles  there  were  in  her  way.  But  when 
she  came  a  little  nearer  to  Garret  she  stopped 
short,  perfectly  sure  that  the  scythe  was  to  be 
employed  to  destroy  her  peace  and  well-being  ■ 
and  when  Chryssa  by  the   more   roundabout   road 


sybil's   birthday.  103 

had  reached  her,  she  was  crying  in  great  dis- 
may. All  comforting  assurances  were  of  no  effect, 
and  Chryssa  marched  her  off  into  the  house  again. 
Then  she  herself  came  out  to  have  a  run  among 
the  cut  grass,  and  to  watch  the  flying  grass- 
hoppers with  their  pretty  yellow  wings,  and  the 
birds  that  came  all  the  way  from  the  hedge  to 
pick  up  every  one  that  was  small  enough. 

Then  Chryssa  noticed  the  drooping  white  flower 
heads  that  lay  in  the  swath. 

"What  makes  you  cut  down  the  daisies,  Gar- 
ret ?"  she  said.  "  And  here  are  some  buttercups 
too.     O  Garret !  that's  too  bad." 

"Why  Miss  Chryssa  they  aint  flowers — they're 
nothing  in  life  but  weeds." 

"  What  makes  weeds,  I  wonder,"  said  Chryssa  ; 
"  why  aren't  they  just  as  good  as  any  flowers, 
Garret  ?" 

This  was  more  than  Garret  could  tell,  so  he 
shifted  the  question. 

"You  see  Miss  Chryssa,  they  grow  among  the 
grass  so — I  couldn't  let  'em  stand  if  I  wanted  to. 
If  I  was  to  mow  round  every  bunch  of  daisies," 


104  sybil's    birthday. 

he  added,  shaking  his  head,  "I  guess  they'd  be 
gone  to  seed  by  the  time  I  got  through,  and 
you'd  be  grown  up,  Miss  Chryssa." 

"No  I  shouldn't,"  said  Chryssa  gravely.  "Un- 
cle Ruth  says  you  mow  very  fast,  Garret;  and  it 
would  take  me  a  great  while  to  grow  up." 

"  Then  we'll  have  a  beautiful  young  lady  here  1" 
said  Garret. 

"0  I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa  who  was 
braiding  three  blades  of  grass  with  great  intent- 
ness.  "  Everybody  don't  grow  up  pretty.  0  I 
know  what  I'll  do  !  I'll  make  a  leaf  carpet " 
And  away  she  ran  to  the  bladder-senna  tree. 

It  had  large  smooth  leaves,  and  with  a  quan- 
tity of  these  in  her  frock  and  a  tumbler  of  water 
by  her  side,  Chryssa  was  soon  seated  on  the 
front  steps  making  a  carpet :  for  by  wetting  the 
leaves  she  could  make  them  stick  together  quite 
securely. 

Then  came  tea,  when  all  the  cakes  small  and 
great  made  their  appearance  ;  and  after  tea  the 
company  went  away. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 


"  A  UNT   Esther,"  said  Sybil  one  day  after  din- 
ner,  "  may   we   go  down   to   the   garden   and 
look  for  strawberries  V 

"  The  strawberries  are  all  gone,  child,  long  ago." 


106  CHICKENS     AN'D     EGGS. 

"  O  no  ma'am,  I  don't  mean  the  Lafaettes,  nor 
the — the — what  do  you  call  them  ? — the  Chilis  ; 
but  the  little  Alpine  strawberries  that  grow  by 
Chryssa's  garden.  You  know  they  bear  all  sum- 
mer." 

"O  yes,"  said  Chryssa  jumping  down  from  her 
chair,  "and  then  I  can  see  if  any  of  my  damask 
roses  are  out.     May  we,  Aunt  Esther?" 

"If  you  won't  stay  too  long.  The  sun  is  very 
hot." 

"We  won't  stay  too  long,"  replied  the  young 
ones  as  they  ran  off. 

The  garden  lay  to  the  north  of  the  house  ;  and 
on  either  side  the  gate  as  you  entered  were  the 
two  little  plots  of  ground  which  the  children 
called  their  own.  They  were  not  very  full  of 
flowers  as  yet,  though  from  time  to  time  Mr. 
Rutherford  brought  home  some  roots  or  plants 
that  he  had  found  in  the  market,  and  placed 
them  here.  The  last  arrival  of  this  kind  had 
been  a  bunch  of  golden  buttons  for  Chryssa  and 
a  fine  tuberose  for  Sybil,  and  these  were  flour- 
ishing  nicely.     But    Chryssa's    chief    delight   was 

5* 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS.  107 

ber  damask  rose  bush,  while  Sybil  took  no  small 
pride  in  a  little  double-flowering  almond.  Early 
in  the  season  this  had  been  covered  with  delicate 
blossoms,  as  if  a  light  fall  of  pink  snow  had 
rested  there  ;  and  Chryssa's  patience  was  sorely 
tried,  for  her  rose  tree  at  the  same  time  pre- 
sented nothing  but  green  leaves. 

"  I  don't  believe  my  rose  bush  can  have  such 
pretty  flowers,"  she  said  — "  if  it  ever  has  any  at 
all !" 

But  as  the  days  passed  on,  the  almond  flowers 
faded,  while  on  the  other  side  of  the  walk  some 
little  rosebuds  made  their  appearance, — at  first 
green  like  the  leaves,  then  by  degrees  striped  with 
dark  red — as  if  it  were  the  dress  of  a  little  fairy 
who  was  trying  very  hard  to  get  out  ;  for  there 
was  every  day  more  and  more  red  and  less  and 
less  green.  To-day  there  was  a  rose  open — not  to 
its  full  extent,  but  in  a  beautiful  half  blown  state 
of  sweetness. 

"  0  it's  lovely  !"  Chryssa  exclaimed  in  ecstasy. 
"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  beautiful  ?"  and 
then  carefully  taking  hold  of  the  stem  she  bent  it 


108  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

down  until  nose  as  well  as  eyes  could  have  the 
benefit  of  it. 

"  Oh  me,  how  sweet !" 

"I  don't  believe  it's  half  so  sweet  as  this," 
said  Sybil,  who  had  betaken  herself  to  the  Al- 
pine bed,  and  was  now  holding  up  one  of  the 
berries. 

"  Are  there  any  strawberries  ?"  said  Chryssa 
suddenly  letting  go  the  damask  rose,  which  flew 
back  with  such  energy  that  the  bunch  of  bee- 
larkspur  thought  itself  called  upon,  and  returned 
the  visit  the  next  time  the  wind  set  that  way. 

"  Are  there  any  strawberries  ?"  repeated  Chryssa, 
when  she  had  watched  how  the  two  neighbours 
knocked  their  heads  together. 

"  Any  ! — I  think  there  are  !  Just  look  at  ail 
these  red  ones,"  said  Sybil  turning  up  the  leaves  ; 
"and  there  are  some  white  ones." 

The  strawberries  were  very  tempting  and  sweet, 
and  of  such  a  nice  size,  as  the  children  remarked 
— "  all  ready  cut  up  into  mouthfuls."  It  was  very 
pleasant  too  this  eating  first  a  red  and  then  a 
white  one,  and  all  the   talk  about  which  was  best. 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS.  109 

Then    suddenly   Sybil   jumped    up   and    uttered   a 
loud  scream. 

"  Why  Syb  !   what  in  the  world's  the  matter  ?" 
exclaimed     Chryssa    when    she    had    echoed    the  c 
scream.     "  Did  you  see  a  snake  ?" 

"No  indeed  I  didn't,  but  just  when  I  was 
picking  a  big  white  strawberry  a  great  ugly  toad 
jumped  out  of  the  leaves  close  by  my  hand  ;  and 
it  did  startle  me  so  !  I  wonder  if  he  thought  I 
had  no  business  to  eat  strawberries.  Ugh  ! — it 
makes  the  cold  chills  run  all  over  me." 

"  I  wish  they'd  run  all  over  me,"  said  Chryssa, 
"  for  I'm  very  hot.  But  toads  don't  poison  anybody." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Sybil, — "  they're  very  ugly 
and  disagreeable.  Come,  let's  go  in.  I  don't 
want  strawberries  if  I  can't  have  'em  without 
toads." 

"  How  you  did  scream  !"  said  Chryssa  laughing. 

"  Well,  so  did  you." 

"  0  well,  because  I  didn't  know  what  was  the 
matter." 

"  That  was  particularly  wise  !  to  scream  for 
you  didn't  know  what." 


110  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

"  Ah,  but  I  screamed  because  you  did,  von 
know.  I  thought  there  must  be  something  the 
matter.  I  shouldn't  scream  for  the  toad,  I  prom- 
ise you.  I  don't  care  that  for  him ;"  said  she, 
snapping  her  fingers. 

"I  do  wonder  what's  the  use  of  toads,"  said 
Sybil, — "or  if  they're  only  made  to  frighten  peo- 
ple." 

"I  guess  not,"  said  Chryssa,  "they  don't  fright- 
en me,  any  way  ;  but  I'll  ask  Uncle  Ruth  what 
they're  good  for,  if  I  don't  forget  it." 

When  the  beauty  of  roses  and  the  ugliness  of 
toads  had  been  much  talked  about  to  Mrs.  Ruth 
erford,  Chryssa  held  up  the  bunch  of  berries  she 
had  brought,  and  said, 

"  Now  Aunt  Esther,  you  shall  have  these 
strawberries  upon  one  condition." 

"  Not  a  hard  one  I  trust,"  said  her  aunt  smiling 
"for  certainly  your  berries  look  very  tempting." 

"  Don't  they  though  !"  said  Chryssa.  '-■  And 
just  smell  them, — now  doesn't  your  nose  confirm 
the  report  of  your  eyes,  as  Sybil  said  to  Uncle 
Ruth  the  other  day?" 


CHICK  E  NS     AND     EGGS.  Ill 

"Perfectly,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "And  now 
for  conditions." 

"Now  for  conditions! — I  want  very  much  to 
know  why  you  call  these  Alpine  strawberries,  and 
where  they  grow,  and  why  the  toads  hide  among 
them, — and  why  my  roses  are  damask  roses, — I 
thought  you  said  damask  was  some  kind  of  stuff 
like  the  cover  of  that  big  chair." 

"For  one  condition  you'd  better  say  four,"  re- 
marked Sybil. 

"  No,  the  condition  is  that  I  answer  all  these 
difficult  questions,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "Well 
Chryssie,  the  strawberries  are  called  Alpine  be- 
cause it  is  said  they  grow  wild  on  the  Alps." 

"The  Alps," — repeated  Chryssa, — "those  are 
the  very  big,  very  high  mountains  in  Switzerland, 
that  always  have  snow  on  them.  I  had  'em  once 
for  my  geography  question.  But  what  makes  you 
say,  it  is  said?" 

"  Because  I  have  never  been  on  the  Alps  my- 
self, and  therefore  know  about  them  only  from 
other  people  and  books." 

"  I   don't    believe    they   do    grow  there    then," 


112  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

said  Chryssa.  "How  can  strawberries  live  in  the 
snow  ?" 

"They  can  live  where  the  snow  melts  off 
in  the  summer, — and  it  is  only  the  tops  of 
the  mountains  that  are  white  all  the  year 
round." 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  them,"  said  Chryssa  ;  "  it 
must  be  very  funny  to  see  strawberries  and  snow 
on  the  same  mountain.  O  Sybil !  we  haven't 
looked  for  eggs  to-day  !" 

"  I  can't  go  now,"  said  Sybil,  "  I  must  read 
my  Rollin." 

"  Yes,  I  guess  you  want  to  read  Rollin  very 
much,  by  the  way  you've  been  looking  up  and 
listening  to  me." 

"  Suppose  you  give  her  nothing  more  to  listen 
to,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  What  if  you 
were  to  try  how  much  you  can  get  interested  in 
the  boundaries  of  Alabama  ?" 

"0  Aunt  Esther!"  said  Chryssa  laughing, — 
"  I  know  what  you  mean  1  Well — where's  the 
atlas.  But  I  don't  think  I  shall  get  interested 
at    all,   because   you   see    it    isn't    interesting.      I 


CHICKEN'S    AXD     EGGS.  113 

guess  I  know  'em  already  though.  It's  bounded 
on  the  north  by — " 

"  Don't  study  aloud,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford. — 
"you  will  disturb  Sybil." 

"But  you  haven't  told  me  about  the  toads, 
nor  the  damask  roses,"  said  Chryssa  suddenly 
coming  back  from  the  boundaries  of  Alabama. 

"  We'll  talk  of  them  another  time.  I  must  be 
busy  now,  and  so  must  you." 

And  Chryssa  did  try  to  be  busy  and  quiet,  but 
it  was  hard  work — much  harder  than  the  bound- 
ary question.  And  though  she  sat  on  the  floor 
with  the  atlas  in  her  lap,  she  occasionally  broke 
the  silence  by  such  ejaculations  as  "  High  diddle 
diddle  !"— or  a  line  of  "The  little  kits  about  the 
house," — adding  in  an  under  tone,  "  I  wish  we 
had  little  kits,  I'm  sure." 

"  Miss  Chryssa,"  said  Janet  coming  in  while 
the  western  boundary  was  in  demand,  "Garret 
has  found  a  hen  with  ten  little  chickens,  and  he 
says  wouldn't  you  like  to  come  and  put  'em  in 
the  coop,  Miss." 

"  Ten  little  chickens  !"  screamed  Chryssa  spring- 


114  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

ing  to  her  feet  and  dropping  the  atlas, — "where 
are  they  ?  where  did  he  get  them  ?  O  yes,  I'd 
like  to  very  much." 

"  Garret's  below  with  the  chickens  in  a  basket, 
Miss." 

Chryssa  looked  down  at  the  atlas  and  then  up 
at  her  aunt ;  but  Mrs.  Rutherford  never  raised 
her  eyes. 

"  I'll  come  in  two  minutes,  Janet,"  she  said 
drawing  a  long  breath  and  sitting  down  on  the 
floor  again  ;  "  tell  Garret  to  wait  for  me.  I'll 
come  just  as  soon  as  I  can — I've  only  got  to 
find  the  capital  of  Alabama." 

In  two  minutes  it  was  found  and  stowed  away 
in  Chryssa's  head ;  the  atlas  was  put  back  in 
the  drawer  ;  and  running  down  the  steps  Chryssa 
skipped  along  the  walk  to  the  locust  grove,  where 
was  the  old  hen  in  a  coop. 

"  What  a  pretty  old  hen  !"  said  Chryssa  look- 
ing in.  "  But  what  makes  her  scream  and  poke 
her  head  through  the  coop  so  ?" 

Garret  who  had  been  sitting  under  the  trees 
with  the  basket  of  chickens,  now  came  and  looked 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS.  115 

at  the  old  hen  just  as  if  he  hadn't  been  watch- 
ing her  for  the  last  ten  minutes,  and  said, 

"  I  guess  she  wants  her  chickens  Miss." 

"  0  where  are  they  ?"  said  Chryssa.  "  I'll  give 
'em  to  her  this  minute." 

But  when  she  had  cautiously  lifted  the  cover 
of  the  basket  and  peeped  in,  the  chickens  seemed 
quite  too  pretty  to  part  with. 

"Why  can't  I  keep  'em  in  here  Garret,  and 
then  I  could  play  with  them  so  nicely.  Do  you 
think  the  old  hen  would  care?  I  don't  believe 
she  loves  them  half  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  She  loves  them  very  much,  Miss,"  said  Gar- 
ret shaking  his  head.  "  She  just  gave  them  all 
she  could  find  to  eat,  and  she  flew  at  me  like 
everything  when  I  tried  to  catch  'em." 

"  But  she  might  have  some  other  chickens," 
said  Chryssa  with  a  fresh  peep  into  the  basket. 
"  I  dare  say  we  could  find  some  ugly  ones  that 
would  do  very  well  for  her." 

"  She  wouldn't  have  them,  Miss,"  said  Garret, 
— "  most  hens  will  kill  any  strange  chickens  that 
come  near  them." 


116  CHICKENS     AXD     EGGS. 

"  Well,  you  shall  have  these  old  hen,"  said 
Chryssa.  "  0  what  dear  little  soft  things  !  and 
so  fat.  They're  a  great  deal  prettier  than  if  they 
had  feathers.  Let's  see, — I'll  put  down  this 
brown  one  first — no,  the  black  one  ;  I  like  that 
least.  There's  only  one  black,  and  one  brown, 
and  two  grey  like  the  old  hen  ;  and  how 
many — one,  two, — don't  run  about  so,  I  can't 
count  you  chickies, — one,  two,  three,  four,  five, 
six,  white  ones.  There,  now  I  hope  you  are 
satisfied  old  hen." 

The  old  hen  did  seem  to  be  satisfied,  for  after 
a  few  turns  up  and  down  the  coop,  and  a  great 
deal  of  scratching  and  clucking,  she  established 
herself  in  one  corner  and  spread  out  her  wings 
to  accommodate  the  chickens.  They,  crowding 
and  struggling  to  get  under  her,  now  pushing 
one  another  out,  and  now  in ;  at  length  made 
their  mother  cover  a  larger  space  than  Chryssa 
would  have  thought  possible.  She  stood  in  wrapt 
attention.  Suddenly  the  hen  got  up  and  walked 
to  the  other  corner,  with  the  sleepy  chickens 
trooping  after   her  ;   but  when   she  had  scratched 


CHICKEN'S    AND     EGGS.  Ill 

about  for  a  little  there,  she  returned  and  estab- 
lished herself  once  more  in  her  old  place.  Soon 
all  the  chicks  were  disposed  of  but  one  little 
grey  one,  which  could  by  no  means  get  under 
cover  ;  but  wisely  resolving  that  his  feet  should 
be  warm  if  his  head  was  not,  he  jumped  upon 
the  hen's  back.  And  to  Chryssa's  great  delight, 
a  white  chicken  who  was  perhaps  in  rather  strait 
quarters,  thrust  his  head  out  through  the  feathers 
of  the  old  hen's  wing. 

"  I  never  saw  such  black  eyes  as  he's  got  !" 
thought  Chryssa,  while  her  own  grew  very  bright 
and  big.  And  then  they  were  all  quiet,  except 
an  occasional  sleepy  chirp  of  remonstrance  against 
the  encroachments  of  a  brother  chick  ;  or  a  soft 
murmuring  "  peep  !"  of  pleasure.  Even  the  old 
hen  shut  her  eyes  and  seemed  to  doze,  opening 
them  now  and  then  however,  to  make  sure  that 
Chryssa  wasn't  going  to  shoot  her. 

How  long  Chryssa  stood  there  with  folded 
hands,  gazing  into  the  coop,  is  uncertain.  Gar- 
ret had  long  since  gone  to  his  work,  and  the  sun 
was  climbing  higher  and  higher  into  the  tree-tops, 


118  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

and  the  chickens  had  dreamed  a  perfect  variety  of 
things  ;  yet  she  stood  there.  One  foot  standing 
quietly  by  the  side  of  the  other  foot,  and  the 
wind  blowing  her  little  white  apron  to  and  fro  ; 
the  empty  basket  by  her  side,  and  those  two  lit- 
tle clasped  hands  never  stirred  from  each  other. 
A  chipping-bird  as  he  flew  home  to  his  nest, 
came  near  lighting  upon  her  for  a  little  post,  she 
stood  so  still. 

And  how  long  she  would  have  remained  there 
is  also  very  doubtful  if  Sybil  and  the  egg  basket 
had  not  come  running  down  the  road. 

°  0  there  you  are,  Chryssie,"  said  Sybil, 
"  and  the  chickens  too,  I  suppose.  Are  they 
pretty  ?" 

"  0  they're  beautiful,"  said  Chryssa  without 
stirring  her  position. 

It  was  agreed  however  that  Sybil  should  see 
the  brood  another  time,  "it  would  be  such  a  pity 
to  wake  them  up  ;"  and  when  Chryssa  had  eager- 
ly told  all  she  had  seen  and  heard  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  barn. 

"  Where's    Garret,    I    wonder  ?"    said    Sybil, — 


CHICKENS    AND    EGGS.  119 

"you  know  we  want  him  to  open  the  barn  door 
and  go  up  the  ladder  for  us." 

Garret  appeared  at  her  call,  and  opened  the 
door  and  looked  in  the  hay  loft,  but  could  find 
no  eggs  ;  then  he  returned  to  his  work. 

"  It's  queer  there  are  none  up  there,"  said 
Sybil — "  there  ought  to  be  some  :  and  there  are 
only  two  in  the  nest  on  the  floor.  I'll  tell  you 
what  Chryssa,  it  looks  as  if  there  might  be  a 
nest  up  in  that  corner — 'way  up  in  the  hay  be- 
hind that  old  blue  door  that  looks  as  if  it  had 
been  thrown  there  on  purpose.     Do  you  see  ?" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  said  Chryssa  standing  on  tiptoe, 
"at  least  I  see  the  door.  But  you  can't  climb 
up  there — shall  I  call  Garret  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  I  want  to  go  myself.  I  tell  you  I 
can  climb  better  than  he  can,  this  minute.  Stop, 
I'll  take  out  these  eggs  for  fear  I  should  break 
them.  NW  you  stand  still, — don't  step  on  the 
pitchfork  nor  tumble  out  of  the  door." 

Chryssa  laughed  and  stood  still,  and  her  sister 
scrambled  up  on  the  hay-mow. 

"  0   Chryssa  !"    she   exclaimed  as    she  put  her 


120  CHICKENS     AND     KGG5. 

head  behind  the  blue  door,  "here's  a  nest,  and 
ever  so  many  eggs  in  it  I" 

"  How  many  ?"  said  Chryssa,  wishing  very  much 
that  she  was  big  enough  to  climb  hay-mows. 

"I  don't  know  yet.  There's  eight  I  believe, 
but  you  know  I  must  leave  one  for  a  nest-egg 
so  there  are  only  seven  for  us." 

"Well  that's  a  good  many,"  said  Chryssa  fold- 
ing her  hands  in  a  new  position  and  looking  very 
much  pleased. 

"Yes  indeed;  and  they're  such  big  ones  too. 
There  must  be  more  than  one  hen  that  has  a  nest 
up  here,  for  some  of  the  eggs  are  brown  and  some 
are  white." 

"  I  guess  they  think  it's  a  nice  place,"  said 
Chryssa.  "But  now  Syb  take  care  of  yourself 
coming  down — the  hay  is  slippery.  Now  let  me 
see — 0  what  beauties  1  how  nice  and  white  they 
look — all  but  that  one,  and  that's  as  brown  as 
Aunt  Esther  said  my  neck  would  be — as  brown 
as  an  Indian.  I  thought  you  said  some  of  'em 
were  brown — there's  only  one."       ' 

"Well,  one's  some,"  said  Sybil. 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS.  121 

"Is  it ?"  said  Chryssa.  " Well  mayn't  I  look 
in  that  other  new  nest  that  we  made  in  the  cow- 
house yesterday? — you  took  all  the  eggs  out  of 
this  one." 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  anything  there,"  said 
Sybil  as  they  crossed  the  barn-yard,  "but  you 
may  look.  Hens  don't  always  like  the  nests 
other  people  make  for  them." 

"So  hens  are  people,  are  they?"  said  Chryssa. 
"Now  we'll  see — 0  let  me  open  the  door,  I  can 
— O  yes,  here  are  two  new  eggs  right  in  the 
nest !  I  dare  say  Speckle  laid  'em — she's  such  a 
nice  little  hen.     I  wish  I  could  take  'em  both." 

"Well  take  them  then,"  said  Sybil,  "and  I'll 
put  in  this  nest-egg  out  of  the  manger, — the  hens 
don't  lay  there  any  more.  Now  let's  make  haste, 
Chryssa,  it's  time  for  Uncle  Ruth  to  be  home, 
and  you  know  he  will  bring  the  fan  to-night,  so  I 
want  to  meet  him  first." 

"  What  sort  of  a  fan  will  he  get  ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  but  I  asked  him  not  to  get 
one  with  either  a  pink  or  a  green  ribbon,  so  that 
it  needn't  be  like  ours." 


122  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

"Why  I  should  like  it  to  have  a  ribbon  like 
mine,"  said  Chryssa ;  "  you  are  so  fanny — you 
never  want  anything  if  anybody  has  got  some- 
thing like  it." 

"There's  the  gig  coming  along  the  lane,"  said 
Sybil — "take  this  basket  Chryssa — I  must  run." 

"  But  Sybil !"  called  out  little  Chryssa  into 
whose  hand  the  basket  was  thrust,  "I  want  to 
run  too — and  I  can't — with  the  basket." 

Pat,  pat,  went  Sybil's  feet  along  the  walk,  and 
presently  Chryssa  began  to  run  too, — then  she 
heard  the  eggs  go  rattle,  rattle,  in  the  basket,  in 
a  very  breakable  sort  of  way.  She  stopped  and 
looked  in — they  were  not  broken  yet,  but  they 
might  be.  Then  she  set  the  basket  down  under 
a  locust  tree — no,  that  wouldn't  do, — somebody 
might  knock  it  over,  or  steal  it.  She  took  tip 
the  basket  again,  her  heart  swelling  and  her  lips 
trembling  with  the  disappointment,  and  walked  on 
towards  the  house  as  fast  as  she  could  ;  but  with 
very  faint  hopes  of  getting  there  in  time  to  see 
the  fan  presented — much  less  unrolled.  Suddenly 
Sybil    came    flying   down    the   walk    towards    her 


CHICKENS    AND     EGGS.  123 

again,  and  catching  the  basket  in  one  hand  and 
Chryssa's  hand  in  the  other,  she  began  to  run  for 
the  house  ;  but  carrying  the  basket  so  steadily 
that  the  eggs  did  not  say  a  word.  Neither  did 
Chryssa — for  she  was  too  much  out  of  breath  ; 
and  after  all  they  got  to  the  gate  as  soon  as  the 
gig  did,  and  Mr.  Rutherford  jumped  out  and 
walked  with  them. 

"  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Sybil  after  the  first  greet- 
ing, "have  you  got  the  fan?" 

"What  does  that  look  like?"  said  he  with  a 
smile,  and  handing  her  a  flat  and  very  fan-like 
little  parcel. 

"  0  that  must  be  it,"  said  Chryssa  ;  and  as 
Mr.  Rutherford  passed  into  the  house  the  chil- 
dren stood  still  on  the  gravel  walk  and  opened 
the  paper.  There  was  the  fan — of  dark  grey 
feathers,  and  with  a  purple  ribbon  fastened  to  the 
handle.     It  gave  great  satisfaction. 

"  It's  prettier  than  either  of  ours,"  said  Chryssa, 
"  and  the  ribbon's  longer.  I'm  very  glad  !  But  oh 
Sybil,  how  good  you  were  to  come  back  for  me — 
because  I  never  should  have  got  here  if  you  hadn't." 


124  CHICKENS     AND     EGGS. 

"  JSTo  I  wasn't  good,"  said  Sybil ;  "  and  I 
didn't  go  back  because  I  wanted  to, — so  you 
needn't  thank  me  for  it.  If  I  bad  been  good 
I  shouldn't  have  left  you  in  the  first  place." 

"  I  think  you  were  very  good,"  said  Chryssa 
contentedly.  So  they  went  in  and  gave  Mrs. 
Rutherford  her  birthday  present,  and  she  was 
quite  as  much  surprised  and  pleased  as  they  had 
expected. 

"  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Chryssa  when  she  had 
taken  hold  of  his  hand  and  was  walking  up  and 
down  the  drawing-room  with  him  after  tea  ;  "  did 
you  get  the  ribbon  because  you  liked  the  fan, 
or  the  fan  because  you  liked  the  ribbon  ?" 

"  I  think  the  ribbon  had  the  most  to  do  with 
my  choice.  I  had  picked  out  a  fan  with  a  pink 
ribbon,  but  then  I  remembered  Sybil's  prohibition." 

"0  I  wish  you  could  have  got  that,"  said 
Chryssa,  "and  then  it  would  have  been  like  mine. 
Is  this  fan  as  pretty  as  that  one  ?" 

"  Quite  as  pretty." 

"What  nice  things  ribbons  are,"  said  Chryssa 
after  a  pause. 


CHICKENS     AND     EGGS.  125 

"  Do  you  know  what  they  are  made  of  ?" 

"  Why  no,  Uncle  Ruth, — they  look  a  little  like 
Aunt  Esther's  silk  frocks  only  they're  softer." 

"They  are  made  of  silk  threads,  as  those 
frocks  are  ;  and  the  silk  threads  are  made  by  a 
worm." 

"A  worm,  Uncle  Ruth?  Garret  showed  me 
some  worms  the  other  day  when  he  was  digging, 
but  they  didn't  look  as  if  they  could  make  silk 
or  anything  else.     They  were  very  ugly  indeed." 

"  Those  were  earth-worms  ;  the  silk-worms  are 
short  and  thick,  and  of  a  whitish  colour." 

"  And  can  they  make  ribbons  ?"  said  Chryssa 
wonderingly. 

"They  make  the  silk  threads  from  which  rib- 
bons and  all  other  silk  things  are  woven.  Some 
day  I  will  take  you  to  Mr.  Grandin's  and  show 
you  his  silk-worms,  and  then  you  will  understand 
more  about  it." 

"  Oh  thank  you  Uncle  Ruth  1" — and  so  it  was 
settled. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE     SILK-WORMS     AND    THE    BUTTERFLY    DOOR. 


"  Q YBIL  !"  cried  Chryssa  the  minute  she  opened 
her    eyes    next  morning,    "  did   we   find  any 
eggs  in  that  nest  yesterday?" 

"What  nest ?"  said  Sybil  very  sleepily. 


THE     SILK- WORMS,     ETC.  127 

"  Why  that  new  nest  we  made  in  the  cow- 
house,— don't  you  know  1" 

"Why  yes  child,  of  course  we  did.  How  can 
you  forget  so  I" 

"I  didn't  forget,  only  I  didn't  know  but  I 
dreamt  it." 

"Well  you  didn't  dream  it, — at  least  I  don't 
know  but  you  dreamt  it,  but  it's  true ; — so  I 
hope  you  are  satisfied." 

"  We  found  two  eggs,  didn't  we  ?  I  was  think- 
ing of  two  nice  white  eggs." 

"  And  if  you'd  been  thinking  of  twenty  you 
needn't  have  waked  me  up.  Do  go  off  and  leave 
me  in  peace  and  quiet." 

"  Ah  but  you  oughtn't  to  be  quiet,"  said 
Chryssa.  "  You'd  better  not  go  to  sleep  again, 
I  can  tell  you,  or  you'll  be  as  late  as  you  were 
yesterday.     Come  ! — get  up  1" 

"  Won't  you  go  and  feed  your  chickens  Chryssa  ?" 

"0  my  chickens  ! — poor  little  things — I  dare 
say  they're  hungry.  But  I'm  not  ready  yet,  you 
see,  so  they  must  wait." 

And  then  came  an  eager  and  determined  splash' 


128  THE     SILK -WORMS,     ETC. 

ing  in  the  basin,  which  would  have  told  any  per- 
son with  one  ear  open  that  Chryssa  was  wash- 
ing herself;  but  both  Sybil's  ears  were  more 
than  half  shut,  therefore  she  took  up  a  different 
notion. 

"It  doesn't  rain,  does  it?"  she  inquired  a  lit- 
tle more  sleepily  than  before. 

"  Why  no  !"  said  Chryssa  laughing  merrily  as 
she  rubbed  her  face  with  the  towel.  "  If  you'd 
only  open  your  eyes  you'd  see  that  it  doesn't.  I 
should  think  they'd  get  open  in  spite  of  you — 
the  sun's  right  on  them.  There  ! — I  do  believe 
I  heard  one  of  the  chickens  cry  this  minute. 
Sybil,  how  long  do  you  s'pose  it'll  be  before 
they  get  feathers?" 

"  How  many  feathers  ?"  said  Sybil,  who  be- 
tween Chryssa  and  the  sun  was  waking  up  "in 
spite  of  herself."  "They'll  have  some  in  a  week, 
I  dare  say." 

"  Well  I  mean  a  great  many  feathers — wings 
and  tail  and  all,  just  as  the  old  hen  has.  How 
long  will  it  be  before  they'll  be  as  big  as  the 
old  hen  ?" 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  129 

"0  I  don't  know" — said  Sybil  turning  over. 
"  How  can  I  tell  ?  By  the  time  the  old  hen's 
superannuated,  I  guess." 

Chryssa  stood  with  an  intensely  grave  face, 
trying  to  imagine  what  superannuated  could 
mean  ;  but  Sybil's  now  resolutely  closed  eyes 
gave  no  encouragement  to  further  questions,  and 
catching  up  her  sunbonnet  she  ran  down  to  the 
kitchen.  At  least  she  was  running  down,  when 
0Mrs.  Rutherford  called  her. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Chryssa  ?" 

"  To  get  some  indian-meal,  Aunt  Esther,  to 
feed  my  chickens." 

"  It's  too  wet  for  you  now  dear ;  stay  here 
till  after  breakfast." 

"  But  Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa  appearing 
at  the  parlour  door,  "  my  chickens  must  be  very 
hungry." 

"  I  don't  believe  they're  awake  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford.  "  What  do  you  suppose  would  be- 
come of  such  little  chickens  if  the  old  hen  should 
let  them  go  out  in  the  wet  grass  so  early  in 
the  morning  ?     No,  no,  you  mav  be  sure  she  takes 

6* 


130 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC. 


as  good  care  of  her  chickens  as  I  do  of  miae  ; 
and  see,  here  comes  breakfast." 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  a  chicken  at  all,"  said 
Chryssa  laughing.  "  Then  you  don't  really  think 
they're  awake  ?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  a  single  one  of  them  has  got 
his  eyes  open.     But  where's  Sybil  ?  isn't  she  up  ?" 

"She  hasn't  got  her  eyes  open,  either,  I  guess," 
said  Chryssa  ;  and  jumping  upstairs  she  not  only 
awoke  her  sister  with  the  news  that  the  coffee-pot 
was  on  the  table,  but  also  slightly  aroused  her 
sister's  displeasure  by  sundry  comparisons  drawn 
from  the  supposed  fact  that  the  chickens  were  yet 
slumbering.  Whence  Chryssa  came  to  the  wise 
conclusion  that  it  is  never  best  to  say  much  to 
people  until  they  are  broad  awake. 

"I  shall  come  home  early  this  afternoon,"  said 
Mr.  Rutherford  as  they  sat  at  breakfast,  "and  we 
will  drive  out  to  Grandin's.  I  promised  Chryssa 
to  show  her  his  silk-worms." 

"What  does  he  keep  them  for,  Uncle  Ruth?" 

"More  for  amusement  than  anything  else,  I 
believe." 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  131 

"  0  let  us  have  some  too,"  said  Chryssa ;  "  it 
would  be  so  nice  to  have  the  silk  threads  and 
make  ribbons." 

Mr.  Rutherford  smiled. 

"It  takes  more  than  silk  threads  to  make  rib- 
bons," he  said ;  "  and  maybe  when  you  have  seen 
the  worms  you  will  care  less  about  having  them. 
I  think  your  chickens  are  much  prettier  pets." 

Thus  reminded  of  her  new  charge,  Chryssa  got 
a  saucer  and  spoon  and  went  off  to  the  meal- 
tub  ;  and  when  she  had  carefully  mixed  as  much 
as  chickens  with  full-grown  appetites  could  re- 
quire, she  ran  down  to  the  locust  grove,  and  soon 
found  to  her  disappointment  that  the  old  hen 
was  able  to  eat  much  more  than  all  the  chickens 
put  together.  However  they  chirped  over  their 
tiny  breakfast  with  a  satisfied  air  that  was  very 
pleasant  as  far  as  it  went,  and  Chryssa  com- 
forted herself  with  the  hope  that  they  would  have 
larger  appetites  in  time. 

The  afternoon  was  very  clear  and  pleasant. 
Mr.  Rutherford  came  home  early  as  he  had 
u'omised,   and   they  set   out   in    high    spirits    for 


132  THE     SILK- WORMS,     ETC. 

Mr.  Grandin's, — such  high  spirits  indeed,  that 
Chryssa  not  taking  good  heed  to  her  little  para- 
sol, a  jolt  of  the  carriage  flung  it  into  the  road, 
and  in  a  moment  the  wheel  had  passed  over  it. 
Well ! — it  couldn't  be  helped  ;  but  she  thought 
that  did  not  mend  the  matter  much,  and  her 
complacency  was  not  fairly  restored  till  she 
caught  sight  of  the  rustic  summer-houses,  and 
smelled  or  fancied  she  smelled  the  flowers  in  Mr. 
Grandin's  garden. 

They  were  very  cordially  received,  and  the  gar- 
den was  very  beautiful.  Flowers — flowers — every- 
where, and  curious  trees  and  shrubs,  and  little 
white  rabbits  hiding  their  red  eyes  behind  prison 
bars,  where  Chryssa  pitied  them  very  much. 
And  as  they  walked  about  Miss  Grandin  picked 
all  sorts  of  beautiful  and  sweet  flowers  for  them, 
till  all  Chryssa's  fingers  were  too  few  to  hold  her 
share. 

Then  they  went  into  the  house  to  see  the  silk- 
worms. 

Chryssa  did  not  like  them  near  so  well  as  she 
expected.     They  were  large  whitish-coloured  things, 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  133 

with  too  many  feet  for  beauty,  Chryssa  thought, 
walking  about  and  eating  leaves,  and  looking 
very  comfortable  and  very  ugly.  What  could 
they  have  to  do  with  pink  ribbons  ?  And  just 
as  she  was  thinking  how  well  it  was  they  were 
shut  up,  Miss  Grandin  opened  a  little  door  in  the 
frame,  and  taking  out  a  particularly  large  worm, 
laid  it  lovingly  against  her  cheek.  Chryssa 
turned  away  in.  great  disgust  and  looked  at  a 
cage  of  white  mice,  which  seemed  quite  beautiful 
by  comparison  ;  though  in  themselves  she  thought 
them  very  ugly  and  ill-used. 

"  Why  Chryssa  ["  said  Mr.  Rutherford  when 
he  came  in  from  the  garden,  "  I  thought  you 
wanted  to  see  the  silk-worms  ?" 

"I  have  been  looking  at  them  Uncle  Ruth,  but 
I  didn't  want  to  get  'em  on  me." 

Miss  Grandin  laughed,  and  put  the  worm  back 
and  shut  the  door ;  and  then  very  unwillingly 
Chryssa  came  up  to  the  frame  again.  But  Mr. 
Rutherford  wanted  her  to  hear  all  they  were 
talking  and  telling  about  the  worms, — how  that 
in   the   first   thirty   days   after   one   is   hatched   it 


134  THE     SILK -WORMS,     ETC. 

eats  sixty  thousand  times  its  own  weight  of 
leaves,  and  increases  forty  times  in  length  and 
nine  thousand  five  hundred  times  in  weight.  How 
it  takes  twelve  pounds  of  cocoons  to  make  one 
pound  of  reeled  silk  ;  and  this  one  pound  makes 
fourteen  yards  of  excellent  Gros  de  Naples. 

"What  is  reeled  silk?"  said  Sybil. 

"The  cocoons  are  thrown  into  boiling  water  to 
destroy  the  moth,  and  then  they  are  stirred  about 
with  a  bunch  of  twigs  till  the  twigs  catch  the 
ends  of  the  silk  threads, — then  the  threads  are 
wound  off  upon  a  reel." 

The  cocoons  were  very  pretty,  Chryssa  thought, 
but  she  entirely  disapproved  of  the  boiling  water. 

"Why  must  they  kill  the  moth,  Uncle  Ruth?" 
she  asked. 

"Because  it  would  eat  its  way  out  through 
the  cocoon,  and  so  injure  the  silk." 

"  TIow  many  threads  would  the  moth  cut?" 
said  Chryssa,  with  an  endeavour  to  get  at  the 
probable  loss  of  letting  it  live. 

"Properly  speaking  there  is  but  one  thread  on 
each  cocoon,  but  as  it  is  wound  round  and  round, 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  135 

the  moth  in  eating  its  way  out  would  cut  this 
thread  many  times." 

The  balance  between  loss  of  life  and  of  silk  was 
easy  to  strike,  in  Chryssa's  mind.  Why  couldn't 
they  piece  the  silk  ? 

"But  that  stuff  looks  so  fuzzy,"  said  Sybil, — 
"not  a  bit  like  threads  of  silk. 

"That  is  only  the  outer  covering;  the  fine  silk 
thread  is  underneath." 

"I  shouldn't  think  there'd  be  much  room  for 
it,"  said  Sybil.  "A  very  short  thread  would 
make  that  little  cocoon." 

"The  cocoon  is  small,  I  grant  you,"  said 
Mr.  Rutherford,  "  but  so  is  the  silk  very  fine  ; 
and  the  thread  which  makes  that  little  cocoon  is 
about  three  hundred  yards  long,  spun  double.  It 
is  very  light  too,  and  ten  thousand  cocoons  do 
not  generally  yield  five  pounds  of  silk." 

And  here  Mrs.  Grandin  (thinking  perhaps  that 
Chryssa  must  be  tired  and  bewildered  with  the 
long  threads  of  silk)  opened  a  closet  door,  the 
inner  surface  of  which  was  entirely  covered  with 
butterflies,  and  beetles,  and  dragon  flies,  and  ich- 


136  THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC. 

neumon  flies,  and  chafers,  of  eve^y  size  and  colour 
and  mixture  of  colour.  What  could  make  them 
stay  there  ?  Chryssa  wondered,  but  she  did  not 
like  to  ask.  So  she  stood  still  and  looked  at  the 
butterflies,  and  they  stood  still  too, — there  did 
not  a  wing  flutter.  They  were  not  even  tempted 
by  Chryssa's  bunch  of  flowers,  though  she  looked 
down  to  see  if  none  of  them  had  transferred 
themselves. 

Then  Mrs.  Grandin  pointed  to  a  large  purple 
emperor  on  the  door,  and  began  a  long  story  of 
how  she  had  been  walking  in  the  garden  to  look 
at  a  new  Amaryllis ;  how  the  butterfly  had 
alighted  on  her  shawl  ;  how  the  gardener  had 
cried  out  and  she  had  chid  him  ;  and  then  how 
she  had  skilfully  covered  her  prize  with  a  bell- 
glass.  Chryssa  felt  more  and  more  puzzled. 
Would  Mrs.  Grandin  really  catch  a  live  butterfly 
and  stick  him  up  there  ?  and  how  could  she  ? 
and  were  all  the  occupants  of  the  door  dead  or 
alive  at  that  present  moment  ?  She  couldn't  tell, 
but  somehow  the  door  didn't  look  so  pretty  to 
her  now  ;   and  she  was  just  turning  away  to  the 


THE     SILK-WO  RMS,     ETC.  131 

white  mice  again,  when  Mrs.  Rutherford  took 
leave  and  they  came  away.  No  sooner  were  they 
all  in  the  carriage  than  Chryssa  began". 

"  Uncle  Ruth,  what  did  make  those  butterflies 
stay  on  that  door  ?" 

"They  were  fastened  there." 

"Fastened  there?" 

"  Yes  ;  if  you  had  looked  a  little  closer  you 
would  have  seen  a  small  pin  thrust  through  each." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,"  said  Chryssa  knit- 
ting her  brows  with  excess  of  perplexity ;  "I 
thought  she  said  that  big  butterfly  got  on  her 
shawl  in  the  garden?" 

"  So  she  did ;  and  it  was  there  she  caught 
him." 

"But  if  he  could  fly  about  he  wasn't  dead." 

"  Certainly  not ;  I  suppose  none  of  the  butter- 
flies were  dead  till  they  were  pinned  up  to  the 
door.  People  seldom  find  dead  butterflies  in  such 
good  preservation." 

"  Mrs.  Grandin  must  be  a  nice  woman  !"  said 
Sybil  coolly. 

"Some  people  are  very  fond  of   collecting  in- 


138  THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC. 

sects,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford  with  a  slight  smile 
at  Chryssa's  speechless  face  ;  "  and  as  they  would 
not  stay  in  the  house  alive,  these  people  take 
various  ways  of  killing  them.  Sometimes  they 
are  killed  instantly  by  being  pierced  with  a  pin 
dipped  in  a  very  strong  and  poisonous  liquid, — 
sometimes  they  are  merely  fastened  up  to  a 
door  and  left  to  die  at  their  leisure.  This  I  be- 
lieve was  the  fate  of  those  you  saw  to-day." 

"  But  it's  dreadfully  cruel !  don't  you  think  so 
Uncle  Ruth?" 

"  Dreadfully  cruel  indeed ;  but  unfortunately 
there  are  plenty  of  people  in  the  world  who  are 
willing  to  do  cruel  things  for  their  own  amuse- 
ment." 

"  I  don't  want  ever  to  go  there  again,"  said 
Chryssa  who  really  looked  pale  at  the  idea  of 
such  an  unscrupulous  slaughter  of  butterflies. 

"  Not  even  to  get  such  flowers  ?"  said  Mr. 
Rutherford.  "  Look  at  those  roses  and  gerani- 
ums in  your  hand,  Chryssie." 

"Yes  Uncle  Ruth — they're  very  sweet,  but  I 
don't  like  people  that  do  so." 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  139 

"  I  don't  like  the  things  they  do,"  said  her 
uncle,  "  but  you  must  not  judge  the  people  too 
harshly.  All  are  not  equally  tender-hearted  by 
nature,  nor  by  education.  I  do  not  suppose  Mrs. 
Grandin  had  the  least  idea  that  there  was  any- 
thing wrong  or  cruel  in  what  we  dislike  so  much." 

"I  don't  see  why  she  should  take  the  trouble 
to  be  cruel  for  butterflies,"  said  Sybil.  "I'm 
sure  I  wouldn't." 

"01  would  !"  said  Chryssa.  "If  it  wasn't  cruel 
I'd  get  some  too.     They're  such  beautiful  things !" 

She  sat  for  some  time  with  her  head  a  little 
on  one  side,  her  hands  with  the  beautiful  bunch 
of  flowers  hanging  listlessly  down  in  her  lap, 
and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  road  ;  but  not  appar- 
ently thinking  of  it  or  its  shadows,  to  which  the 
setting  sun  gave  more  and  more  length  and  dis- 
tinctness every  moment. 

"  Chryssa  !"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford.  "  Are  you 
asleep  ?" 

"  0  no  Aunt  Esther,  I  was  thinking — don't 
butterflies  ever  die  ?  I  mean  unless  somebody  kills 
them  ?" 


140  THE     SILK-WOKMS,     ETC. 

"  Yes  indeed  ;  they  are  by  no  means  immortal, 
nor  even  very  long  lived." 

"Then  if  I  found  any  dead  ones  I  might  keep 
them,  mightn't  I  ?" 

"  To  be  snre.  I  don't  think  you  would  ever 
get  so  very  fond  of  them  as  to  catch  live  ones 
too." 

"But  what  will  you  do  with  them  Chryssie?" 
said  Mr.  Rutherford.  "  I  doubt  whether  Aunt 
Esther  would  care  to  have  her  closet  doors  orna- 
mented in  such  a  manner." 

"01  wouldn't  put  them  on  the  doors,  Uncle 
Ruth/'  said  Chryssa  smiling.  "I'll  put  'em  in 
a  box — if  I  get  any." 

"You  haven't  got  a  box,"  said  Sybil. 

"Yes  I  have,  I've  got  a  little  tin  box  that 
had  soda  powders  in  it — no,  that's  too  small." 

"  Well  when  that  is  full  you  shall  have  an- 
other," said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"  But  Aunt  Esther,  I'm  afraid  that's  too  small 
for  anything." 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  hold  a  beetle, — or 
a  lady-bug?" 


THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC.  141 

"O  yes,"  said  Chryssa  laughing,  "but  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  beetles  ;  I  was  thinking  of  that  big 
purple  butterfly." 

"  I  fear  you  will  not  find  such  a  one  very  soon, 
dear  Chryssie  ;  they  live  in  the  tops  of  the  high 
trees,  and  seldom  come  down  within  reach  of  peo- 
ple's fingers." 

"  But  if  one  died  he  might  have  to  come 
down,"  said  Chryssa. 

"Well  dear,"  said  her  aunt  smiling,  "if  one 
does,  you  shall  have  a  box  for  it." 

"  You'll  never  want  to  sing  '  I'd  be  a  butter- 
fly' again,  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil. 

"0   yes   I   shall,"   said  Chryssa,    "because   you 

i  know   if   I  was    a    butterfly  I   wouldn't   ever  let 

Mrs.  Grandin  catch  me  !"     And  she  began  to  sing 

0  I'd  be  a  butterfly, — flitting  about 
From  roses  to  lilies,  now  in  and  now  out.  • 

I'd  flutter  all  day  in  the  sun's  pleasant  ray, 
And  with  butterfly  brothers  I'd  merrily  play. 

And  I'd  be  a  honey-bee,— busy  and  bright 

From  sunrise  at  morning  till  dew-fall  at  night. 

Sweet  honey  I'd  store,  till  the  season  was  o'er, 

And  the  comb  and  the  hive  were  too  full  to  hold  more. 


142  THE     SILK-WORMS,     ETC 

O  I'd  be  the  violet,  modest  and  sweet! 

And  almost  unseen  in  my  shady  retreat; 

Tet  there  can  be  no  doubt  I  should  soon  be  found  out, 

For  my  perfume  would  spread  itself  all  round  about. 

And  I*d  be  the  lily  that  lives  in  the  vale, 

With  tall  leaves  to  shelter  my  flowers  so  pale. 

I'd  hang  my  head  there  with  my  sisters  so  fair, 

And  our  breath  should  be  borne  on  the  soft  summer  air. 

But  now  sir  you  must  not  believe  that  we  would 

Be  a  butterfly,  flower,  or  bee  if  we  could. 

0  no !  we  agree  that  we  rather  had  be 

Just  such  little  children  as  those  you  now  see. 

<;  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford,  "  and  just  such 
little  children  as  those  wishes  would  make  you. 
As  light-hearted  as  the  butterflies,  as  busy  as 
bees — and  seeking  honey  from  the  best  flowers, — 
as  modest  and  humble  as  the  violet.  And  how 
can  you  be  like  the  lily  ?" 

The  children  did  not  speak,  and  then  Mrs. 
Rutherford  looked  up  and  said  softly, 

"That  ye  keep  yourselves  unspotted  from  the 
world." 


1 


' 


iyli     .  i 


CHAPTER  X. 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS. 


rpHE  children  were  eating  a  lunch  of  bread  and 
milk.     Seated  by  a  little  table  behind  the  par- 
lour  door    they   took    alternate    spoonfuls    out   of 
the  same  bowl. 


144  CATS    AND     CRACKERS. 

"Do  you  like  the  crust  or  the  soft  best?"  said 
Sybil. 

"I  like  the  crust  best." 

"So  do  I.     It's. a  pity  we  both  like  it  best." 

"Well,"  said  Chryssa,  "you  take  a  mouthful 
of  crust  and  then  I'll  take  a  mouthful  of  crust 
That'll  be  fair." 

So  they  eat  away  at  "  the  soft,"  and  then 
Sybil  would  say, 

"  Now  let's  take  some  crust ;"  and  a  few  bits 
of  crust  were  taken  accordingly. 

"Why  did  we  have  lunch  to-day?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Because  Uncle  Ruth's  coming  home  to  dinner, 
so  it'll  be  late,"  said  Sybil.  "And  Aunt  Esther 
says  we  may  go  and  see  Betsy  Donovan." 

"  0  that'll  be  very  nice,"  said  Chryssa.  "  I 
like  to  go  there,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes,  pretty  well,"  said  Sybil.  "  Now  Chryssa 
you  took  crust  twice  running." 

"  Did  I  ?"  said  Chryssa  ;  "  well  I  didn't  mean 
to.  I  was  thinking  about  Betsy  Donovan,  so  I 
s'pose  I  took  it  accidentally." 

"Never  mind,  I  don't  care,"  said  Sybil.     "You 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS.  145 

may  take  two  pieces  more  if  you've  a  mind.  But 
Chryssa  if  Betsy  offers  us  any  candy  to-day,  let's 
not  take  it." 

"  Why  ?"  said  Chryssa — "  I  like  that  candy 
very  much, — Betsy  gave  me  some  twice,  and  I 
eat  it  all  up.  It  tasted  just  like  cloves.  I  never 
saw  such  candy  anywhere  else  :  why  shouldn't  we 
take  it?" 

"Because,"  said  Sybil,  "Betsy  keeps  it  to  sell, 
and  it  doesn't  seem  right  for  us  to  eat  it.  I 
know  it's  very  good,  but  she  might  get  a  penny 
for  every  stick  she  gives  us  ;  and  she  is  poor." 

"Well- if  that's  all,"  said  Chryssa,  "I'll  give 
her  a  penny  for  it  too.  I  would  have  asked 
Aunt  Esther  for  one  before  if  you'd  told  me." 

"But  Betsy  wouldn't  let  us  pay  for  it,"  said 
Sybil, — "I'm  sure  she  wouldn't.  She's  always 
very  glad  to  give  it  to  us,  but  then  I  don't  think 
we  ought  to  take  it." 

"Well  I  won't  then,"  said  Chryssa,  "but  it's 
a  great  pity."  ■ .   .  '•    .'   ..       \ 

The    children    got    ready, '  and    set     out    with 

Janet   to  walk   to   Betsy  Donovan's    little   house. 
7 


146  CATS     AND     CRACKERS. 

It  was  quite  a  long  walk  from  Mr.  Rutherford's, 
but  ou  a  pretty  winding  road,  so  shady  with  trees 
and  sweet  with  flowers,  that  most  people  would 
have  called  it  too  short. 

The  house  was  very  small,  and  as  brown  as 
summer  suns  and  winter  storms  could  make  it ; 
for  paint  it  had  none  except  upon  the  roof  and 
the  front  door,  and  they  were  both  red.  The 
front  window  displayed  a  variety  of  temptations 
to  the  passer-by  to  stop  and  spend  his  money,  if 
he  had  any  ;  and  if  he  had  not,  to  stand  outside 
and  wish  that  he  had.  And  as  Betsy's  house 
stood  by  the  sea-shore,  and  a  great  many  fisher 
boys  went  that  way,  the  grass  under  the  window 
was  almost  as  well  trodden  and  worn  as  the 
boards  of  her  little  floor.  For  in  the  window 
stood  candies  upon  every  little  ledge,  leaning 
some  one  way  and  some  the  other  ;  while  spools 
of  cotton,  penny  trumpets,  whistles,  cigars,  and 
scalloped  gingerbread,  were  arranged  in  what  is 
commonly  called  "tempting  confusion"  upon  the 
window  and  the  window-sill. 

There  was  only  a  little  strip  of  grass  by  the 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS.  14T 

house,  and  then  there  came  shore  weeds,  and  the 
mere  shore  itself,  stretching  down  in  sandy  bar- 
renness to  where  the  wet  feet  of  the  little  waves 
came  frolicking  over  the  pebbles.  Queer  looking 
shore  birds  with  long  necks  and  legs  stalked 
about  over  the  sand,  on  which  an  old  fish  boat 
or  two  lay  drawn  up  high  and  dry  out  of  reach 
of  the  tide.  Everything  was  very  still  this  after- 
noon, and  even  a  windmill  that  stood  off  in  the 
distance  was  as  motionless  as  if  it  had  no  arms, 
or  didn't  know  how  to  use  them.  Andrew  Don- 
ovan was  down  on  the  shore  mending  his  fish 
net,  and  Betsy  sat  sewing  on  the  step  of  the  door. 
Of  course  she  was  very  glad  to  see  the  chil- 
dren, and  provided  them  at  once  with  the  very 
best  and  smallest  chairs  that  she  had.  And  the 
next  thing  was  to  take  down  two  sticks  of  that 
very  yellow-striped'  candy  from  the  window,  and 
give  one  to  Sybil  and  one  to  Chryssa.  And 
they  could  no  more  have  helped  eating  it  than 
they  could  have  helped  wanting  to, — Betsy  put 
it  into  their  hands  and  would  hear  no  word  of 
refusal.      She   would    also    have    made    them   eat 


148  CATS     A  XL)     CRACKERS. 

some  of  the  scalloped  gingerbread,  but  it  was 
most  resolutely  declined.  As  neither  of  the  chil- 
dren was  partial  to  gingerbread,  this  was  the 
easier  done. 

And  so  they  sat  there  for  a  while  with  great 
satisfaction, — Janet  and  Betsy  talking,  and  Sybil 
and  Chryssa  perched  up  on  their  chairs  eating 
the  yellow-striped  candy. 

Then  came  two  little  ragged  boys  for  some- 
thing out  of  the  window, — a  scalloped  ginger- 
bread, which  they  immediately  divided,  and  two 
bunches  of  queer  little  red  rolls  of  something. 
Chryssa  watched  these  commodities  delivered  and 
the  pennies  received,  with  great  interest. 

"  What  sort  of  candy  was  that,  Betsy  ?"  she 
inquired  as  Mrs.  Donovan  came  back  to  her  seat. 

"  It  wasn't  candy  at  all,  love, — it  was  just 
fire-crackers." 

"  Fire-crackers !"  said  Chryssa,  "  what's  fire- 
crackers ?     0  Sybil !  what's  that  ?" 

A  queer  little  pop !  outside  the  door  called 
forth  this  last  exclamation  ;  and  then  there  was 
another  pop,  and  another,  and  then  a  whole  sue- 


CATS     AND     CBACKL'RS.  149 

cession  of  them,  coming  so  fast  that  Chryssa  was 
almost  too  frightened  to  ask  questions. 

"  What  is  it  ?  it's  very  disagreeable — I'm  afraid 
of  it." 

"It's  only  the  fire-crackers,"  said  Betsy.  "They 
won't  hurt  you — they  don't  hurt  anybody." 

"  But  I  don't  like  them  at  all,"  said  Chryssa 
drawing  close  to  her  sister,  who  sat  up  quite 
straight  and  courageously  though  not  liking  the 
crackers  herself.  "  I  wish  they'd  stop — what  makes 
those  boys  do  so  ?" 

"That's  for  the  fourth  of  July,"  said  Betsy,— 
"  they  bought  'em  on  purpose  to  fire  'em  off." 

"But  it  isn't  the  fourth  now,"  said  Sybil. 

"  No  Miss,  but  the  boys  isn't  particular  about 
the  time,  so  they  have  the  crackers." 

"  But  what  shall  we  do  ?"  said  Chryssa,  "  we 
can't  get  home, — why  must  they  do  that  for  the 
fourth  of  July — I  wish  they  wouldn't." 

"They've  gone  off  a  bit  now,"  said  Janet  look- 
ing out  between  the  sticks  of  candy  and  scalloped 
gingerbread.  "  I  guess  we'll  get  away  before 
they  come  back  again." 


150  CATS     AXD     CRACKERS". 

And  saying  goodbye  in  great  haste  to  Betsy, 
the  two  children  ran  off  from  the  honse  so  fast 
that  Janet  could  not  come  up  with  them  until 
they  stopped  at  what  they  thought  a  safe  distance. 

"Let's  gather  some  flowers  to  take  home,"  said 
Sybil  when  they  were  in  the  wood  road  again. 
"See,  here  are  wild  roses." 

"And  here  are  buttercups,  and  some  great  big 
white  flowers." 

"No,  they're  only  great  big  bunches  of  white 
flowers,"  said  Sybil. 

"O  my!"  said  Janet,  "don't  pick  that,  Miss 
Chryssa  1  Elder's  nothing  but  a  weed — the  farm- 
er's boys  all  cut  'em  down.  And  with  all  the 
pinks  and  poppies  you've  got  at  home  too." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Chryssa, — "  I  like  'em 
very  much,  they're  so  sweet.  And  the  pinks 
we've  got  now  aren't  sweet  a  bit,  and  the  pop- 
pies never  are.  I  think  poppies  would  be  too 
pretty  if  they  were  sweet.  This  isn't  sweet 
either  but  it's  pretty." 

A  green  vine  with  bunches  of  purple  flowers 
and   green   and   red   berries   was    twining    in   and 


CATS    AND     CRACKERS.  151 

out  the  fence,  and   clambering   over  a  branch  of 
the  elder. 

"Don't  pick  that,"  said  Sybil,  "it's  poison. 
Maria  Delue  says  it's  nightshade." 

"Here  are  nice  flowers,"  said  Chryssa  run- 
ning up  to  a  tall  blackberry  bush  that  had  put 
forth  its  white  stars  somewhat  late  in  the  season. 

"  Yes  and  nice  thorns  too,"  said  Sybil.  "  You'd 
better  come  away.  Don't  you  remember  the  fox 
that  tried  to  get  through  the  bramble  hedge?" 

"I  wish  I  had  all  those  stories,"  said  Chryssa 
quitting  the  blackberry.  "  I  like  them  so  much — 
all  about  the  foxes  and  the  cocks  and  the  iron 
pots." 

"  Well  I'll  tell  you  something,"  said  Sybil.  "  I 
knew  you  wanted  that  book,  and  so  I  asked 
Uncle  Ruth  to  get  it  for  you." 

"  0  how  good  you  are  !"  said  Chryssa.  "  Do 
you  think  he'll  get  it  to-day  ?" 

"  Can't  tell — maybe,  and  maybe  not.  Some 
days  he's  too  busy  to  think  of  anything.  Come 
let's  sit  down  here  and  rest,  and  I'll  tell  you  a 
story." 


152  CATS     ANT)     CRACKERS. 

"  0  do  !"  said  Chryssa  running  to  seat  herself 
on  a  stone, — "that  will  be  so  nice." 

"Well  then,  once  upon  a  time" — 

"But  what  makes  you  always  say  once  upon 
a  time  there  was?"  said  Chryssa,  "Why  don't 
you  say  there  is  V 

"  0  because  I  don't  want  you  to  suppose  it's 
a  true  story,"  said  Sybil.  "'There  is,'  means 
something  true  you  know,  and  '  once  upon  a 
time'  stories  may  be  true  or  not.  But  there  is 
a  great  deal  of  truth  in  this  one,  only  it's  not 
all  true.  There  was  once  a  little  worm  crawling 
about  on  an  oak  leaf  And  there  were  half  a 
dozen  other  little  worms  that  were  his  brothers 
and  sisters.  And  they  used  to  go  up  and  down 
the  leaf,  and  when  they  had  eaten  the  most  of 
it  up  they  went  to  another.  Then  every  night 
they  all  slept  in  a  great  soft  web  where  the  dew 
could  not  get  at  them. 

"  One  day  somebody  told  this  first  little 
worm" — 

"  Who  told  him  ?"   said  Chryssa. 

"01  don't  know — "  said  Sybil.     "  Somebody — 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS.  153 

told  hiin  that  he  must  spin  a  little  house  for  him- 
self, and  shut  himself  up,  and  stay  there  for  ever 
so  long." 

"  Was  he  to  die  ?"  asked  Chryssa. 

u  No,  he  shouldn't  die,  but  he  must  stay  there 
for  t.  long  time,  and  then  he  should  come  out 
again.  But  he  never  could  be  a  little  worm  any 
more." 

"What  should  he  be  then?"  said  Chryssa. 

"Why  he  should  be  a  butterfly,  with  golden 
wings  and  bright  eyes  ;  and  he  should  fly  about 
all  the  day  long,  and  call  at  the  flower  houses  and 
eat  honey." 

"  Well  that  was  a  great  deal  better,"  said 
Chryssa.     "I  don't  like  little  worms — much." 

"He  didn't  think  so,"  said  Sybil.  "He  thought 
he  would  rather  be  a  worm,  and  he  was  very 
sorry  to  think  he  never  should  crawl  about  on 
oak  leaves  any  more." 

"  And  did  he  spin  his  house,  and  live  there, 
and  come  out  a  butterfly  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Sybil,  "he  had  to." 

"  Well,"  said  Chryssa — "  when  he  was  a  butter- 


154  CATS     AND     CRACKERS. 

fly  did  he  find  any  of  the  other  little  worms  that 
had  turned  into  butterflies  too  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sybil.  "Yes,  I  suppose 
so.     Of  course  he  did." 

"Why  Sybil,"  said  Chryssa  who  had  been 
thinking  very  gravely  for  two  minutes,  "you've 
made  this  all  up  after  what  Aunt  Esther  was 
talking  about  yesterday !  I  heard  her  say  that 
people  do  not  die  when  we  say  they  die,  any 
more  than  a  worm  dies  when  it  turns  into  a  chry- 
salis." 

"  I  saw  a  worm  and  a  butterfly  both  on  a 
rose,"  said  Sybil,  "  and  it  made  me  think  of  it. 
I  was  thinking  how  papa  and  mamma  are  watch- 
ing for  us,  and  wondering  that  we  don't  long  to 
come  to  heaven." 

By  this  time  they  were  rested  and  walked  on. 
It  so  happened  that  Mr.  Rutherford  did  remem- 
ber Chryssa's  book  that  very  day,  and  the  first 
thing  he  gave  her,  after  a  kiss,  when  she  got 
home,  was  a  nice  little  dark  brown  volume,  full 
of  pictures,  and  with  "JEsop's  Fables"  in  gilt  let- 
ters on  the  back. 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS.  155 

"I  hardly  know  whether  it  is  a  very  nice  copy, 
dear,"  he  said;  "but  I  found  it  not  easy  to  get 
one  at  all." 

Chryssa's  thanks  were  few,  for  upon  opening  the 
book  such  a  delightful  mixture  of  "  foxes  and 
cocks  and  iron  pots"  caught  her  eye,  that  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  sit  down  at  once  and 
begin  to  read. 

But  she  was  not  half  through  the  foxes  before 
Mrs.  Rutherford  said  it  was  too  dark  to  read. 

"  Come  down  to  the  garden  with  me,"  she  said, 
"and  see  how  your  flowers  grow." 

"In  one  minute  Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa. 

But  by  the  time  she  had  finished  the  last 
speech  the  bramble  made  to  the  fox,  thinking  to 
herself  how  funny  it  would  have  been  if  the  black- 
berry had  talked  so  to  her,  Mrs.  Rutherford  was 
half  way  down  the  green  slope.  Chryssa  went 
hop  skip  and  jump  to  overtake  her,  and  in  her 
haste  stumbled  over  and  was  near  demolishing  a 
little  toad — which  however  got  off  with  no  very 
serious  injury. 

"  See  what  comes  of  running  so  fast,"  said  Mrs. 


156  CATS     AN'D     CRACKERS. 

Rutherford;    "you   have   almost    killed   that  poor 
little  toad." 

A  word  thoughtlessly  spoken  ! 

Poor  Chryssa  !  the  idea  of  running  over  or 
hurting  anything  was  bad  enough,  but  an  implied 
possibility  that  it  might  be  avoided  made  mat- 
ters still  worse.  She  bestowed  several  very  ten- 
der looks  upon  the  toad,  and  would  have  given 
him  any  assistance  in  her  power  ;  but  whenever 
she  even  thought  of  taking  him  from  the  grass  to 
the  gravel  walk,  the  toad  hopped  off  in  the  most 
unthankful  manner.  So  Chryssa  at  last  followed 
her  aunt,  carefully  enough  this  time,  and  wonder- 
ing within  herself  if  she  was  never  to  run  fast 
any  more,  or  if  toads  were  to  be  always  in  the 
way, — or  as  it  has  been  more  poetically  expressed, 
"  if  the  world  was  not  wide  enough  for  her  and 
the  toads  too  !" 

She  looked  at  the  flowers  with  a  very  sober 
face,  and  though  she  answered  all  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford's remarks  about  them  her  thoughts  were  up 
on  the  slope  with  the  unfortunate  and  ungrateful 
little  toad.     Chryssa  had  really  felt  quite  hurt  by 


CATS     AND     CRACKERS.  157 

his  turning  the  cold  shoulder  to  her  in  such  a 
manner. 

From  these  sorrowful  thoughts  she  was  at  last 
happily  aroused  by  the  sight  of  some  one  coming 
up  from  the  gate, — it  was  Mary,  just  returned 
from  Canterbury. 

It  was  plain  that  she  had  something  wrapped 
up  in  her  apron,  and  in  a  moment  both  children 
were  on  the  run.  Sybil  dashed  through  the  grass, 
but  Chryssa  remembering  the  toads  went  round 
by  the  gravel-walk  ;  and  by  the  time  Mary  had 
reached  the  willow-tree,  both  little  breathless  run- 
ners were  there  too.  She  set  down  her  basket, 
and  unrolling  her  apron  she  shewed  two  little  kit- 
tens ;  fast  asleep,  and  pretty  and  soft  enough  al 
most  to  justify  the  children's  exclamations.  Both 
were  grey  and  white. 

"  But  how  shall  we  know  which  is  which  ?" 
said  Chryssa.  "  0  I'll  tell  you — this  one  has  got 
two  grey  ears  and  that  one  has  got  one  white 
ear.     Now  you  choose." 

"Well  I'll  take  grey  ears,"  said  Sybil. 

"  Then   I'll  take  white   ear,"  said  Chryssa.     "  1 


158  CATS     AMD     CRACKERS. 

like  it  just  as  well.  Now  kitty  don't  scratch  me. 
Poor  kitty  !" — she  exclaimed  in  some  doubt,  as 
the  kitten,  clinging  to  Mary's  apron  with  all  its 
might,  wrinkled  up  its  nose  and  mewed  most  pit- 
eously.     "  What's  the  matter  ?     I  won't  hurt  you." 

"  'Twouldn't  hurt  her  if  ye  did,  I  guess,"  said 
Mary.  "Here — I'll  put  'em  in  yer  aprons,"  said 
she  disengaging  the  kittens  with  what  seemed  no 
very  gentle  pull.  "There — now  take  'em  off  and 
put  'em  to  bed." 

But  where  were  they  to  sleep  ? 

The  children  said  up  stairs  and  Mrs.  Rutherford 
said  down,  and  down  it  was  ;  though  many  were 
the  fears  that  the  kittens  would  take  cold  in  a 
basket  of  hay  on  the  kitchen  hearth.  And  the 
next  question  was  what  they  should  be  called  ; 
for  to  go  to  sleep  to  dream  of  unnamed  kittens, 
was  impossible. 

After  much  deliberation,  Sybil  to  whom  the 
matter  was  referred,  dubbed  her  own  Bess  and  the 
other  Cupid  ;  and  then  after  one  farewell  pat,  and 
a  minute's  silence  to  see  "if  they  were  purring," 
the  two  kittens  who  slept  upstairs  went  thither. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


CLEAVELAND, 


rpHERE  were  few  people  that   came  oftener  to 

Rose  Hill   than   Mrs.  Salisbury  ;  and  she  was 

the  children's  grandmother.     "Whenever  her  coach 

was  seen  coming  along  the   lane  there  was  great 


160  CI.  EAVELAXD. 

calling  and  rejoicing  from  one  to  the  other  ;  and 
great  desire  to  hear  some  of  grandmamma's  stories 
over  again  ;  with  it  must  be  confessed,  some 
curiosity  to  know  what  was  in  grandmamma's 
basket.  There  was  also  a  great  deal  of  interest 
connected  with  the  crimped  and  puffed  borders 
of  her  caps  ;  and  though  Chryssa  had  been  told 
about  fifty  times  how  they  were  done,  she  always 
forgot  and  asked  again, — or  perhaps  she  liked  to 
hear  Mrs.  Salisbury's  description.  If  the  old  lady 
had  a  favourite  of  the  two  children,  it  was  cer- 
tainly Sybil  ;  but  this  seemed  to  Chryssa  quite 
proper  and  natural,  for  she  was  the  oldest  and 
knew  so  much  the  most  ;  and  she  never  drew 
any  other  inference  from  the  relative  size  of  their 
workboxes  or  papers  of  candy.  But  she  was  very 
much  surprised  one  day  when  Mrs.  Salisbury  said, 

"  Chryssa,  I  want  you  to  go  back  with  me  to 
Cleaveland." 

"  Want  me  !"  she  said  jumping  up  off  the 
floor.     "  Is  Aunt  Esther  going  ?" 

"  No,  nobody  is  going  but  you.  Grandpapa 
made   me   promise   to  bring   him   one  of  his  pets, 


CLEAVELAND.  161 

and  Aunt  Esther  and  Sybil  will  come  to-morrow 
or  next  day.     Will  you  go?" 

"  This  morning  ?"  said  Chryssa  dofbtfully.  "  No 
grandmamma,  I  don't  think  I  can." 

"  Well  will  you  go  this  afternoon  ?  Come,"  she 
added,  seeing  that  Chryssa  looked  more  dismayed 
than  pleased,  "  don't  you  want  to  see  grandpapa 
and  Brutus  ? — and  you  shall  have  a  little  bed  all 
to  yourself  in  my  room." 

The  little  bed  was  a  great  temptation, — it  was 
moreover  very  flattering  to  be  asked  ;  and  in 
spite  of  some  undefined  misgivings  at  her  inmost 
heart,  Chryssa  consented  to  go  in  the  afternoon, 
and  having  once  consented  she  would  not  draw 
back.  It  would  be  very  foolish,  she  thought,  and 
unkind  too  when  she  was  so  much  wanted.  For 
Chryssa  was  very  particular  about  people's  feel- 
ings. Many  a  time  her  aunt's  arm  thrown  over 
her  at  night  when  they  were  sleeping  together, 
was  a  heavier  weight  than  her  little  body  could 
bear  quite  pleasantly  ;  but  she  would  have  been 
crushed  rather  than  say  she  found  such  a  token 
of  Aunt  Esther's  love  uncomfortable. 


162  CLEAV ELAND. 

So  Chryssa  consented  to  go  to  Cleaveland  ; — 
and  immediately  after  an  early  dinner  the  coach 
came  to  the  *door.  Mrs.  Salisbury  had  already 
gone  down  the  steps,  and  Chryssa  was  following, 
when  suddenly  she  turned  about  and  ran  up 
again. 

"  0  Aunt  Esther,"  she  said,  drawing  Mrs. 
Rutherford  to  one  side  of  the  hall,  "  won't  you 
please  give  me  a  verse  for  to-morrow  ?" 

Her  aunt  looked  down  at  her,  and  smoothed 
away  the  hair  from  that  little  upturned 
face. 

"  It  must  be  a  short  one,"  said  Chryssa,  "  be- 
cause you  know  if  I  couldn't  remember  it  I 
mightn't  know  where  to  find  it." 

And  stooping  to  kiss  her  once  more,  Mrs.  Ruth- 
erford said, 

" '  Our  Father  -which  art  in  heaven.' 

Look  up  to  him  Chryssie,  and  rest  upon  him,  a 
great  deal  more  than  you  do  upon  me.  You  are 
not  going  away  from  him." 

Before  the  scale  of  pleasure  or  pain  had  fairly 


CLEAVELAND.  163 

descended  (perceptibly  at  least)  in  Chryssa's  mind, 
she  was  in  the  coach  and  outside  the  gate. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it  then.  Into  the 
scale  which  held  her  going  away  from  home 
Chryssa  threw  all  manner  of  thoughts  and  re- 
collections, imaginations  too,  till  it  went  down 
and  down  and  clown.  Before  they  reached  the 
high  road  Mrs.  Salisbury  chanced  to  look  at  her 
little  companion,  and  saw  that  though  she  was 
perfectly  quiet  and  silent,  the  tears  were  running 
down  her  cheeks  as  if  their  fountain  were  inex- 
haustible. 

"  My  dear  Chryssa  !"  she  said, — "  what  is  the 
matter  ?     Are  you  sick  ?" 

Chryssa  might  have  answered  that  she  never 
cried  for  being  sick,  but  she  only  shook  her  head. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  go  with  me  ?  Stop  crying, 
love,  and  I  will  tell  Tim  to  turn  the  minute  we 
get  to  the  road.  I  would  not  take  you  for  any- 
thing if  you  don't  want  to  go." 

No,  Chryssa  would  not  consent  to  turn  back, — 
she  was  steady  in  her  resolve  to  go  on  ;  and  by 
dint  of  rubbing  her  eyes  very  hard  at  last  made 


164  CLEAVE  LAX  D. 

them  understand  what  was  expected  of  them : 
though  whenever  she  tried  to  smile  tears  would 
come  first.  But  if  her  face  could  have  been  seen 
when  no  one  was  looking  at  it,  Mrs.  Salisbury- 
would  have  given  Tim  the  order  to  turn  without 
more  ado. 

The  drive  was  long.  How  long  it  seemed  to 
Chryssa  when  her  heart  flew  back — when  she 
though^  how  happy  they  all  were  at  home  ! — but  it 
ended  at  last ;  though  it  was  too  dark  for  her  to 
see  much  besides  the  old  chimneys  against  the  eve- 
ning sky,  and  the  white  gate  through  which  they 
passed  and  wheeled  round  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

"  0  how  sweet  the  honeysuckles  are  ?"  said 
Chryssa  sitting  up  straight  on  the  broad  thick 
cushion  of  the  coach,  roused  at  last  by  the  per- 
fume which  came  wafted  in  through  the  window. 
And  when  Mr.  Salisbury  came  out  and  lifted  her 
from  the  carriage,  and  made  the  old  mastiff  carry 
her  on  his  back  across  the  piazza  and  into  the 
hall,  she  felt  quite  cheered.  And  then  when  she 
was  in  the  old  parlour,  taking  off  her  things  and 
looking  about,  she  brightened  up  yet  more. 


CLEAVELAND.  165 

Tea  was  just  getting  ready  ;  and  not  only  was 
there  the  pleasant  sound  of  cups  and  saucers  and 
spoons,  but  a  most  agreeable  smell  of  toast  and 
smoked  beef  and  above  all  of  green  tea,  through 
the  apartment. 

Chryssa  walked  round  the  table,  admiring  the 
little  silver  peacocks  on  the  cover  of  the  sugar- 
bowl  and  the  teapot  lid  as  she  had  often  ad- 
mired them  before,  and  comparing  the  device  on 
the  spoon  handles  with  that  on  their  own  spoons 
and  forks  at  Rose  Hill.  On  the  whole  she 
preferred  the  oakleaf  to  the  shell,  and  had  no 
doubt  but  R.  was  a  much  prettier  letter  than 
S.  And  so  for  a  while  matters  went  on  well 
enough. 

But  when  all  the  old  well-known  objects  had 
jeen  examined,  and  tea  was  over  and  the  table 
cleared,  Chryssa's  face  began  to  take  up  its  former 
gravity  ;  and  after  some  vain  efforts  to  amuse  and 
brighten  her  up,  Mrs.  Salisbury  proposed  that  she 
should  go  to  bed. 

They  went  upstairs,  and  there  sure  enough  was 
the  little   bed,   as  nice   and   white    as    could    be 


166  CLEAVELAND. 

Chryssa  was  really  pleased,  for  she  had  never  in 
her  life  slept  by  herself. 

"  Is  this  where  Sybil  slept  ?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Salisbury,  "this  is  the  very 
same  bed.  And  I  shall  be  in  this  other  bed, 
close  by  you,  and  will  get  you  anything  you 
want." 

Chryssa  thought  if  the  case  were  so,  she  would 
have  Aunt  Esther  and  Sybil  there  directly  ;  but 
she  was  in  no  mood  to  talk,  and  went  to  bed  as 
fast  as  possible  without  stopping  to  say  her 
prayers.  Not  that  she  forgot  it ;  but  Mrs.  Salis- 
bury did  not  ask  her  to  kneel  at  her  lap  as  Mrs. 
Rutherford  would  have  done,  and  a  new  maid 
was  there  whom  she  had  never  seen,  and  alto- 
gether Chryssa  felt  strange  and  uncomfortable  ; 
and  getting  into  her  little  bed  she  hid  her  face  in 
the  pillow  and  prayed  there — not  without  a  good 
many  tears.  She  knew  they  had  prayed  for  her 
that  night  at  home,  for  her  uncle  never  forgot  to 
mention  Sybil  when  she  was  away,  and  she  felt 
quite  sure  he  would  not  forget  Chryssa  ;  but  here 
nobody  had  prayed  for  them,  or  seemed  to  think 


CLEAVELAND. 


167 


of  praying  at  all.  She  wondered  what  could  be 
the  reason  ;  and  then  she  went  to  sleep  and 
dreamed  again  that  old  dream  about  the  bee  and 
the  locust  flowers.  Meantime  her  grandmother 
had  gone  down  stairs,  and  the  new  maid  sat  by 
the  window,  looking  out.  But  when  Mrs.  Salisbury 
came  up  again,  and  looked  at  the  little  sleeper  in 
her  white  bed  ;  the  yet  wet  cheek  and  eyelashes 
made  her  think  it  would  be  some  strong  reason 
which  should  make  her  bring  Chryssa  alone  to 
Cleaveland  a  second  time. 

Morning  brought  brighter  prospects, — when  does 
morning  not  brighten  all  within  as  well  as  with- 
out ?  and  when  Chryssa  awoke,  her  little  heart 
turned  a  pirouette  the  very  first  thing,  and  she 
thought  it  was  doubtful  whether  anybody  ever 
could  shed  tears  for  anything.  So  she  lay  in  her 
little  bed  with  her  eyes  bright  with  all  manner  of 
pleasantness.  First  it  was  highly  probable  that 
Aunt  Esther  would  come  to-day, — or  if  not,  Sybil 
might  come — or  her  uncle  ; — or  at  all  events  they 
would  all  come  to-morrow.  Then  she  had  an  inde- 
finite number  of  things  to  do  to-day,  to  get  ready 


168  CLEAVELAND. 

for  them,  and  no  less  than  three  distinct  topics  of 
conversation  already  stored  up,  that  were  to  be 
revealed  to  no  one  but  Sybil.  And  over  and 
through  all,  there  was  that  undefined  sense  of 
gladness  which  seems  to  ride  into  this  world  from 
heaven  direct,  upon  the  early  sunbeams. 

A  little  noise  at  her  side  made  her  turn  her 
head, — it  was  only  Mrs.  Salisbury  snoring.  Chryssa 
wondered  very  much  how  anybody  could  snore  or 
sleep,  such  a  fine  morning  ;  and  getting  out  of  bed 
very  softly  she  began  to  dress  herself.  She  was 
accustomed  to  do  this,  and  always  put  her  clothes 
in  nice  order  on  a  chair  at  night,  with  her  shoes 
and  stockings  under  it  on  the  floor,  that  she  might 
know  just  where  to  find  them.  But  when  she  was 
dressed,  and  had  paid  her  respects  to  the  old- 
fashioned  washstand  in  the  corner,  Chryssa  began 
to  feel  lonely  again,  and  to  wish  that  somebody 
else  would  wake  up.  And  then  she  remembered 
her  verse  ;  and  she  knelt  down  and  prayed  that 
her  Father  in  heaven  would  always  love  her  and 
make  her  his  child. 

Then   she  went  and  stood   at  the  window,  and 


CLEAVELAND.  169 

watched  the  busy  swallows  that  were  fluttering 
and  twittering  about  their  nests  under  the  eaves 
of  the  piazza. 

"  Chryssa  !"  Mrs.  Salisbury  called  out  from  the 
bed,  "come  right  away  child — don't  stand  there, 
you'll  tumble  out." 

"O  no  grandmamma,"  said  Chryssa,  but  coming 
away  at  the  same  time,  "I  wasn't  leaning  out  at 
all ;  and  there's  the  roof  of  the  piazza,  too." 

"No  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Salisbury, — "if  you  fell 
out  you  might  roll.  Go  down  stairs,  dear,  and 
I'll  come  presently." 

So  Chryssa  went  one  step  at  a  time  down  the 
broad  stairs,  which  gave  no  creaking  acknowledg- 
ment of  such  little  feet ;  stroked  the  great  white 
cat,  that  walked  through  the  hall  and  away  from 
her  with  the  air  of  a  person  at  home  ;  and  finally 
herself  walked  into  the  parlour. 

How  pleasant  that  old  parlour  was  of  a  fine 
morning,  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  anyone  who 
had  never  seen  it.  Two  windows  opened  upon  the 
piazza.  Between  them  hung  an  old-fashioned  mir- 
ror, its  round  frame  set  with  so  many  knobs  of 
8 


110  CLEAVELAND. 

gilding  that  you  might  have  thought  there  was  a 
dozen  Chryssas  in  the  room,  from  the  number  of 
little  faces  there  represented. 

Opposite  this  mirror  were  two  doors  —  the  one 
leading  to  the  kitchen  department,  the  other  the 
entrance  to  a  large  pantry.  A  pleasant  place  that 
pantry  was,  with  its  brown  stone  cake  jars,  and 
glass  pickle  jars,  and  white  earthen  jars  of  peaches, 
and  purple  glasses  of  crab-apples.  The  hall  door 
was  on  a  third  side  of  the  room,  and  the  fireplace 
and  two  more  windows  on  the  fourth.  Several  old 
family  portraits,  of  Chryssa's  great  great  grand- 
fathers and  mothers,  hung  upon  the  walls;  and  a 
clock  of  very  uncertain  age  ticked  in  one  corner. 

It  was  a  favourite  maxim  with  Mr.  Salisbury, 
that  a  fire  was  too  pleasant  a  thing  to  be  given 
up  at  any  time  of  year  ;  and  on  this  morning  as 
on  every  other  of  the  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five,  the  fireplace  held  coals  and  ashes  and  two 
or  three  sticks  of  wood  and  an  insinuating  little 
flame  ;  though  the  amount  of  the  two  last  articles 
varied  with  the  season. 

On  one  side  of  the  chimney  stood  an  old  ma- 


CLEAVELAND.  1T1 

hogany  work-table,  a  mahogany  chair  with  leather 
covered  cushion,  and  a  mahogany  foot  stool.  The 
leather  was  of  no  particular  colour  except  that 
of  Time's  bestowing,  —  only  in  one  corner  could 
Cbryssa's  eyes  find  out  a  small  spot  of  blue;  and 
she  often  thought  how  splendid  the  chair  must 
have  been  in  the  days  of  its  glory.  Beneath  the 
work-table  was  a  very  small  brass-nailed  trunk. 

Mr.  Salisbury's  chair,  with  its  three  or  four 
large  square  cushions,  had  the  other  corner  of  the 
fireplace — and  he  himself  had  the  chair. 

There  he  sat,  reading  the  newspaper  when  Chrys- 
sa  came  in;  and  Brutus  lay  on  the  rug,  and  agreed 
to  all  his  master's  notions  about  the  fire.  For 
Brutus  had  grown  old  too;  and  was  no  longer  in 
so  frisky  a  mood  as  he  used  to  be  when  Sybil  was 
a  little  child, — when  she  used  to  walk  round  him 
with  most  fearful  and  respectful  admiration,  and 
say, 

"  Poor  little  dog  !  poor  little  dog  !  —  he  won't 
hurt  you !" 

She  might  have  walked  over  him  now,  and  he 
would  hardly  have  raised  his  head.     When  Chrys- 


172  CLEAVELAND. 

sa  bid  him  good  morning  he  only  beat  the  floor 
pretty  hard  with  his  tail. 

The  breakfast-table  was  set  with  blue  India 
china  and  the  peacock  tea-service  ;  the  humming- 
birds fluttered  about  the  honeysuckles  on  the  pi- 
azza ;  the  swallows  twittered  round  their  nests  ; 
and  the  sun  sent  his  long  glad  beams  past  birds 
and  bees  and  flowers,  through  the  front  windows 
of  the  old  parlour,  till  they  rested  upon  the  break- 
fast-table and  Chryssa.  No  wonder  they  all  looked 
bright. 

""Well," — said  Mr.  Salisbury, — "good  morning. 
Have  you  slept  off  the  blues  ?" 

"  0  yes,"  said  Chryssa.  "  But  I  didn't  know  I 
had  any.     What  are  blues,  grandpapa  ?'? 

"  Blues  V  said  he  looking  at  her  over  his 
spectacles.  "  Why  blues — are  not  precisely 
reds.  You've  heard  of  rose  colour,  haven't 
you  ?" 

"0  yes,"  said  Chryssa  again.  "My  damask 
rose  is  rose-colour.  But  what  makes  those  swal- 
lows come  into  the  piazza  so  ?  And  what  are 
they  doing?" 


CLEAVELAND.  173 

"  Doing  indeed  V  said  Mr.  Salisbury  looking 
over  his  spectacles  again,  but  out  of  the  window 
this  time  and  with  very  different  eyes.  "Why 
they're  building  under  the  piazza-roof.  I've  had 
the  nests  knocked  down  half  a  dozen  times  and  I 
think  they're  built  up  all  the  faster." 

"  Had  the  nests  knocked  down  !"  exclaimed 
Chryssa. 

"To  be  sure.  Just  see  what  a  muss  they 
make,"  he  added,  as  a  bit  of  mud  fell  from  the 
loaded  beak  of  a  swallow.  "And  only  look  in 
that  corner  where  the  last  one  was  knocked  down, 
and  see  how  dirty  the  paint  is." 

"But  if  there  was  a  nest  there  the  paint 
wouldn't  look  dirty,  would  it  ?"  said  Chryssa 

"  No,  I  suppose  it  wouldn't,"  said  Mr.  Salisbury, 
"but  the  nest  would." 

"01  think  they're  so  pretty  1"  said  Chryssa. 
"Those  mud  nests?" 
-  "  O   yes  grandpapa,   I  think    they're   beautiful. 
And  there  is  a  bird  inside   of  one,  looking  out. 
How  funny  his  eyes  look  1" 

"About  as  funny  as  yours  do,  I  think,"  said 


114  CLEAVE  LAND. 

Mr.  Salisbury.  "Well  the  nests  shall  stay,  if  you 
like  them." 

"0  may  they?"  said  Chryssa.  "And  won't 
you  knock  down  any  more  ?" 

"  Not  one.     The  swallows  may  thank  you  for  it." 

"  I'm  sure  I  thank  you,  very  much,  grandpapa," 
she  answered.  "  I'm  so  glad  the  nests  may  stay. 
It's  such  a  pity  the  swallows  should  have  so  much 
trouble  for  nothing. 

Breakfast  was  now  ready,  and  they  sat  down  to 
the  table ;  but  to  Chryssa's  sorrow  again,  her 
grandmother  began  to  pour  out  the  coffee  and 
Mr.  Salisbury  gave  her  some  potato,  without  one 
word  of  thanks  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  ;  but  just 
as  if  the  fine  morning  and  breakfast  and  all  their 
happiness  had  come  by  chance.  She  had  never 
been  there  without  her  uncle  before,  and  did  not 
know  the  habit  of  the  family.  Chryssa  felt  very 
much  puzzled,  and  tasted  her  tumbler  of  milk  and 
set  it  down  again,  feeling  not  quite  sure  whether 
she  ought  to  begin  her  breakfast. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Chryssie  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Salisbury, — "the  milk  isn't  sour,  is  it?" 


CLEAVELAND.  175 

"0  no,"  said  Chryssa,  "it's  very  good." 

"Then  why  don't  you  drink  it?"  said  Mr. 
Salisbury.     "Drink  it  up  and  have  some  more." 

"  Because  I  haven't  thanked  God  for  it  yet," 
said  Chryssa  folding  her  hands  gravely  together, — 
"  and  Aunt  Esther  says  I  ought  to  always  thank 
everybody  for  everything.  She  does — if  it's  ever 
so  little." 

Mr.  Salisbury  swallowed  his  coffee  and  set  down 
the  cup. 

"Wife,  give  me  another,"  he  said.  "Why 
Chryssa,  people  don't  return  thanks  till  after 
breakfast,  that  I  ever  heard  of." 

"  0  but  Uncle  Ruth  always  asks  a  blessing," 
said  Chryssa,  "  and  he  says  that  is  one  way  of 
thanking  God." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Salisbury,  "as  I'm  half 
through  my  breakfast  you  may  as  well  begin 
yours,  and  you  can  talk  about  this  another 
time." 

After  breakfast  Mrs.  Salisbury  got  ready  to 
go  out  and  walk  in  the  garden,  and  Chryssa 
watched  her  with  much  pleasure.     It  was   always 


176  CLEAVELAND 

very  amusing  to  look  at  her  grandmother's  pru- 
nella shoes — so  very  different  from  her  own  little 
kid  ones  ;  and  Mrs.  Salisbury's  sunbonnet,  so  per- 
fectly white,  so  beautifully  quilted,  was  worth 
anybody's  attention.  An  old  green  silk  parasol, 
antique  and  faded,  completed  the  outfit ;  and  if 
the  parasol  could  have  been  changed  into  blue 
satin,  it  is  doubtful  whether  it  would  have  suited 
Chryssa  so  well,  or  in  her  opinion  have  kept  off 
the  sun  so  effectually.  She  had  a  kind  of  rev- 
erence for  both  articles  ;  and  could  not  feel  hot 
while  the  one  was  upon  her  grandmother's  head, 
and  the  other  held  over  her  own. 

And  in  this  trim  they  walked  round  the  gar- 
den and  visited  the  pigs, — Mrs.  Salisbury  very 
busy  with  her  own  plans  and  arrangements,  but 
often  ready  to  hear  Chryssa's  talk  ;  and  Chryssa, 
quite  able  to  be  amused  in  silence  whenever  it 
was  needful. 

Then  they  came  into  the  house  and  sat  down 
on  a  little  flight  of  steps  that  led  from  the 
kitchen  to  the  washroom,  to  shell  the  peas  for 
dinner. 


CLEAVELAND.  11T 

"  Have  you  got  any  little  chickens,  grand- 
mamma?" said  Chryssa. 

"  Yes  dear,  a  good  many  :  you  shall  see  them 
after  dinner.     We've  got  two  broods  of  bantams." 

"What  are  bantams?"  said  Chryssa. 

"They  are  little  white  chickens  with  feathered 
legs.  They  look  as  if  they  had  on  some  of  your 
ruffled  pantalettes." 

Chryssa  was  much  pleased  with  the  prospect 
of  seeing  "  such  funny  chickens  ;"  and  the  peas 
being  all  shelled  she  went  to  wash  her  hands 
and  get  ready  for  dinner. 


,  //M/VXff*  ' 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A     LETTER     AXD     AX     ARRIVAL 


TVfOT  even  a  visit  to  the  bantams  and  the  pro- 
mise of  a  pair  to  take  home  with  her,  could 
keep    Chryssa's   heart   at  rest    all    the    afternoon. 
For  Aunt  Esther  had  said  that  perhaps  she  and 


A    LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL.  119 

Sybil  would  come  "  to-morrow,"  and  it  was  "  to- 
morrow," and  "perhaps"  is  a  very  unquieting 
thing. 

But  though  eyes  and  ears  were  on  the  watch 
for  a  carriage,  none  came — except  imaginary  ones  j 
and  the  frequent  coming  of  these  was  not  to  be 
endured  without  growing  sad.  Chryssa's  face  be- 
came as  decidedly  in  twilight  as  did  all  the 
objects  out  of  doors  ;  and  a  little  sigh  now  and 
then,  told  that  her  heart  had  too  much  pent  up 
within  it. 

At  last,  just  as  the  candles  were  lit,  Mr.  Salis- 
bury came  into  the  room  with  a  letter  in  his 
hand. 

"  Wife,"  said  he,  "  do  you  know  anybody  in 
this  neighbourhood  named  Nerissa  Botherford  ?" 

"  O  I'm  sure  it's  for  me  !"  said  Chryssa.  "  You 
don't  read  it  rigat  grandpapa,  that's  all.  Please 
give  it  to  me  !" 

"  0 — I  see"— said  Mr.  Salisbury.  "  Maybe  it 
is — '  Miss  Chryssa  Rutherford' — that's  it.  But  you 
can't  read  the  first  word." 

"  Ah  but  please  read  it  to  me  !"  and  the  tear- 


180  A     LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL. 

ful  words  were  not  to  be  trifled  with.     Mr.  Salis- 
bury  sat   down   by   the    little   stand,   put    on  his 

glasses,  and  read  as  follows. 

'"Dear  Chryssa, 

'"How  are  you  all?  was  not  grandpapa  very 
much  surprised  to  see  you  V-  (no,  not  a  bit.) 
'  I  suppose  you  play  with  shells  a  great  deal. 
Do  you  want  to  come  home  ?  Don't  you  want 
to  see  Aunt  Esther  and  all  of  us  very  much  V 
(not  she!)  'We  manage  some  way  or  other  to 
go   on  very  pleasantly  without  you.' 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Salisbury  looking 
over  his  spectacles  at  Chryssa,  "she  don't  de- 
serve to  have  her  letter  read.  I  think  I'll  put 
it  in  the  fire,  and  you  and  I'll  play  backgammon." 

"  0  no,  please  don't !"  said  Chryssa. 

"Well,  /  would  if  it  was  my  letter.  How- 
ever— '  we  manage  to  get  along  very  pleasantly 
without  you,  but  I  have  not  played  with  dolls 
once  since  you  went  away.  Yesterday  I  brought 
up  —  Cuper,  Caterpillar'  —  What  the  mischiefs 
this?"    


A    LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL.  181 

"It  must  be  Cupid,"  said  Chryssa  laughing 
and  crying  together.     "That's  my  kitten." 

"  0,  Cupid — '  I  brought  up  Cupid  and  Bess, 
and  warmed  a  cushion  for  them  ;  and  they  were 
here  the  greatest  part  of  the  morning.'  (That's 
one  way  to  bring  up  kittens!)  'I  sucked  one 
of  those  oranges  grandmamma  gave  me  and  then 
played  with  the  skin.' 

"  Wife,"  said  Mr.  Salisbury  laying  the  letter 
on  the  table  and  his  spectacles  on  the  letter,  "I 
wish  you  would  take  care  what  you  give  those 
children.  Here's  Sybil  sucking  oranges  and  then 
playing  with  the  skin  ! — It's  no  wonder  she  looks 
peaked.  What's  the  matter  Chryssa  ?  I  don't 
see  much  to  laugh  at.  And  here's  more  of  the 
same  kind. — 'I  made  some  maple  sugar  fine  and 
then  partly  dried  it.  Aunt  Esther  was  going 
to  write  to  you,  but  she  is  washing  hard' — 
what  on  earth  does  that  mean  ?  Can't  she 
get  a  washerwoman  ?" 

"  0  it  can't  be  that,  grandpapa,"  said  Chryssa, 
"because  you  know  she  never  does  wash." 

"  Well    then    I'll  wipe  my  spectacles  and  look 


182  A     LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL. 

again  —  it's  'sewing  hard  to  be  able  to  come  up 
to  Cleaveland  to-morrow  evening  or  Thursday  morn- 
ing. Cupid  is  this  moment  lying  on  the  green 
cloth.'  (She'd  much  better  be  in  ,the  barn.)  'I 
am  breaking  myself  of  sucking  my  tongue,  but  you 
must  not  go  to  begging  for  me.  Give  my  love 
and  a  kiss  to  all  not  forgetting  yourself.  Aunt 
Esther  says  she  does  not  know  what  to  do  with- 
out you. 

Your  affectionate  sister, 

Sybil  Rutherford.'  " 

"Well  there's  some  sense  in  the  end,"  said  Mr. 
Salisbury  as  he  folded  up  the  letter,    "  but   how 
you're  to  kiss  yourself,  /  don't  know.     I  suppose  ♦ 
I  may  deliver  that  message.      !Now  what  shall  I 
do  with  this?" 

Chryssa  stretched  out  her  hand  for  the  letter, 
nor  did  they  part  company  the  whole  evening. 
Sometimes  she  would  try  to  spell  out  a  sentence 
or  two,  and  sometimes  she  was  quite  satisfied  to 
see  the  outside  of  it,  folded  up  in  her  hand. 

"Grandmamma,"  she   said,  a   little  before   bed- 


A    LETTER     AND     AN     ARRIVAL.  183 

time,  "if  you're  not  very  busy,  would  you  please 
tell  me  about  the  time  when  you  used  to  go  to 
eat  clams,  when  you  were  a  little  girl  ?" 

"To  be  sure  I  will,"  said  Mrs.  Salisbury  ;  and 
she  took  Chryssa  on  her  lap  and  began. 

"When  I  was  a  little  girl,  about  as  old  as  Sy- 
bil, I  used  to  go  to  school  and  have  holiday  every 
Saturday.  And  sometimes  when  all  the  girls  had 
been  very  good  and  had  learned  their  lessons  well, 
our  mothers  used  to  give  us  leave  to  have  what 
we  called  a  pic-nic." 

"That  was  to  go  and  eat  clams?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Yes,  that  was  what  we  meant  by  it.  So  then 
the  first  thing  was  to  go  down  to  the  shore  and 
see  old  Carlin.  Old  Carlin  was  a  fisherman,  and 
he  had  a  beautiful  little  boat  which  he  called 
'The  Mayflower.'  And  he  was  a  very  nice,  care- 
ful man,  and  very  good  to  us  if  we  behaved  our- 
selves ;  so  that  our  mothers  knew  we  might  be 
trusted  with  him.  And  we  used  to  go  Saturday 
morning  and  ask  old  Carlin  if  he  would  take  us 
to  Snipe  island  in  the  afternoon;  and  perhaps  he 
would   say  that  the  tide  would   not   do  for  Snipe 


184  A     LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL. 

island,  but  he  would  take  us  to  Shell  island;  and 
he  would  say  we  must  be  sure  and  come  by  four 
o'clock,  and  not  keep  him  waiting. 

Then  at  four  o'clock  we  were  all  there,  and 
each  girl  had  her  basket.  Some  brought  tea  and 
coffee,  and  some  brought  milk,  and  sugar,  and  cake 
and  bread,  and  cold  ham,  and  butter,  and  pepper 
and  salt,  and  a  clean  table  cloth,  and  a  teakettle, 
and  cups  and  saucers  and  plates,  and  a  gridiron. 
And  the  Mayflower  was  all  ready  too  ;  and  when 
all  the  children  and  baskets  were  nicely  stowed 
away,  we  set  out. 

Then  when  we  got  to  the  island  we  used  to 
run  about,  and  play  tag,  and  pick  up  shells,  while 
old  Carlin  was  getting  clams." 

"  How  did  he  get  them  ?"  asked  Chryssa. 

"  Why  he  used  to  take  a  spade  and  dig  them 
out  of  the  mud,  or  wade  into  the  water  and  pick 
them  up.  And  when  he  had  got  enough  he  would 
call  out, 

"  Come  girls  ! — it's  time  for  supper." 

And  the  boys  all  stopped  their  play  and  ran 
to  pick   up  drift  wood  and  make  a  fire,  and  the 


A     LETTER     AND     AN     ARRIVAL.  185 

girls  filled  the  teakettle  from  the  beautiful  little 
spring  and  put  it  on  to  boil." 

"What  was  drift  wood?"  said  Chryssa. 
"It  was  wood  that  had  fallen  into  the  sea,  and 
drifted  and  tossed  about  for  a  great  while,  till 
some  high  tide  threw  it  up  on  the  shore, — and 
then  it  lay  there  in  the  sun  and  became  as  dry 
as  could  be.  And  when  we  had  made  the  fire, 
we  put  up  two  crotch  sticks  and  a  straight  one 
across,  and  on  that  we  hung  the  teakettle.  Then 
when  there  were  plenty  of  red  hot  coals  we  put 
our  gridiron  down  and  roasted  the  clams,  and  then 
we  had  tea." 

"  It  tasted  good,  didn't  it  ?"  said  Chryssa 
:'  I  think  it  did  !  And  when  we  had  eaten 
enough,  we  washed  up  all  the  dishes  and  packed 
our  baskets,  and  then  went  to  play  again.  And 
when  the  sun  was  just  dipping  into  the  sea,  old 
Carlin  would  call  out, 

"  Come  girls  ! — it's  time  to  go  home." 
"  And  then  we  all   stopped  play  and  got  into 
the  Mayflower  again,  and  reached  home  just  before 
it,  was  Quite  dark, — tired  enough,   I  can  tell  you." 


186  A     LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL. 

By  this  time  Chryssa  was  tired  too,  and  so 
near  asleep  that  she  almost  forgot  to  bid  Mr. 
Salisbury  goodnight. 

Sybil  had  made  a  bright  suggestion  about  the 
shells,  and  next  morning  Chryssa  begged  that  she 
might  have  them  to  play  with. 

Their  play  with  shells  was  a  queer  thing.  The 
children  named  them  after  a  fashion  of  their  own, 
calling  some  pigs  and  some  elephants  and  some 
cows,  as  any  fancied  resemblance  directed.  And 
when  the  back  of  a  large  shell  had  been  slightly 
waxed,  a  little  shell  could  be  made  to  stay  there- 
on, and  so  ride  about  in  triumph. 

So  after  breakfast,  Mrs.  Salisbury  took  a  bunch 
of  keys  from  her  bag — where  they  had  rubbed 
and  jingled  about  till  every  key  was  as  bright  as 
a  looking-glass — and  proceeded  upstairs  to  what 
was  called  the  spare  room. 

It  was  furnished  in  a  peculiar  style. 

The  chairs  were  of  some  light  yellow  wood, 
curiously  cut  and  carved  on  the  back  into  various 
figures  and  devices, — the  centre-piece  of  this  open- 
work being  always  some  animal.     It  was  Chryssa's 


A    LETTER    AND    AN    ARRIVAL.  181 

delight  to  go  from  one  chair  to  another,  admiring 
the  stag's  head  always  thrown  back  and  the  cow's 
tail  always  laid  round  upon  one  side,  and  the 
tiger,  the  elephant,  and  the  wild  boar,  always  dis 
playing  their  own  peculiar  marks  of  ferocity ; 
until  from  leaning  so  long  upon  the  cane  chair- 
bottoms  her  elbows  were  so  deeply  indented  and 
honeycombed  as  to  be  in  themselves  matter  of 
curiosity. 

The  bureau  in  this  room  was  just  as  unlike  all 
other  bureaus  as  the  chairs  were  unlike  all  other 
chairs.  Old  dark  wood,  most  carefully  inlaid 
with  two  other  and  lighter  coloured  kinds,  suited 
well  the  curved  drawers  and  dovetailed  top  ;  and 
the  bureau's  contents  were  the  best  of  all.  It 
always  seemed  to  Sybil  and  Chryssa  a  true  con- 
jurer's bag,  from  which  their  grandmother  brought 
forth  curiosities  that  had  no  rivals  elsewhere  and 
no  limit  but  her  will.  Coins,  engravings,  scent 
bottles,  queer  boxes,  sweet-smelling  nuts,  shells, 
pictures,  stones, — too  many  things  indeed  to  be 
mentioned,  were  here  stowed  away ;  and  it  was 
from    one    of    these    bureau    drawers    that    Mrs. 


188      A  LETTER  AND  AN  ARRIVAL. 

Salisbury  now  took  a  large  box  of  shells,  and 
carried  it  down  into  the  parlour  for  Chryssa'a 
amusement. 

But  it  was  like  the  king  who  bought  Punch, 
and  when  he  got  him  home  found  that  Punch 
was  nothing  by  himself.  What  were  the  shells 
to  Chryssa  without  Sybil  ? — and  how  could  she 
play  with  them  ?  She  could  to  be  sure  put  a 
pig  on  an  elephant  and  push  them  about ;  but 
if  the  pig  fell  off  there  was  nobody  to  laugh, 
and  if  it  stuck  on  there  was  nobody  to  admire. 
She  was  soon  tired  of  the  shells  and  asked  for  the 
billiard  balls — two  or  three  odd  ones  which  seemed 
to  have  rolled  into  the  house  no  one  knew  how, 
on  purpose  for  playthings.  Mrs.  Salisbury  got 
out  the  balls  from  her  worktable  drawer,  and 
Chryssa  sat  down  on  the  floor  to  roll  them. 

But  it  was  poor  fun  to  send  the  ball  off  to 
the  corner  of  the  room  and  then  get  up  and  go 
after  it ; — she  had  no  heart  to  slide  down  on  the 
great  chair  cushions, — what  should  she  do  ?  Her 
eye  fell  upon  the  little  brass-nailed  trunk ;  and 
begging    for    the    key,    Chryssa    lugged    out    the 


A    LETTER    AND    AN    ARRIVAL.  189 

trunk  and  began  to  examine  and  arrange  its  con- 
tents. Tapes,  thread,  needles  and  buttons  were 
unfolded  and  refolded ; — for  the  fifty-first  time, 
at  least,  Chryssa  looked  at  the  old-fashioned 
thread-case  which  was  used  in  Revolutionary 
years,  and  heard  her  grandmother  tell  how  scarce 
everything  was  then ;  and  how  she  had  often 
hemmed  a  cambric  handkerchief  and  a  brown 
towel  with  the  same  needle. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  trunk  lay  a  little  pack- 
age nicely  pinned  up  in  white  paper,  containing 
some  of  Sybil's  attempts  at  painting.  Queer  things 
they  were ;  little  baskets  such  as  nobody  ever 
saw,  filled  with  flowers  that  nobody  ever  heard 
of.  But  their  colours  were  bright,  and  Sybil 
painted  them — reason  enough  for  their  interest  in 
Chryssa's  eyes ;  and  when  she  had  looked  and 
talked  herself  tired,  Mrs.  Salisbury  took  her  up 
on  her  lap  and  sang 

"Little  Bopeep 
Fell  fast  asleep," 

till  Chryssa  fell  asleep  too,  out  of  pure  sympathy. 
What   waked    her    up  ?      She    didn't    know   at 


190  A    LETTER    AND     AN    ARRIVAL. 

first,  when  she  started  up  and  rubbed  her  eyes, 
only  she  thought  she  had  been  dreaming  of  riding 
to  church.  But  it  was  very  dark  in  the  room, 
and  she  couldn't  see  anything  distinctly,  till  at 
that  moment  candles  came  in  ;  and  then  she  saw 
that  Mrs.  Salisbury  was  smiling  at  her  ;  and  look- 
ing round  there  stood  Sybil,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Rutherford  were  just  behind.  0  how  glad  Chryssa 
was  !  and  her  spring  to  them  told  them  so  in- 
stead of  words, — indeed  as  words  could  not.  She 
was  too  happy  that  evening,  and  talked  away 
like  a  little  cricket.  How  gladly  she  shared  her 
little  white  bed  with  Sybil, — how  charmingly  they 
played  with  shells  the  next  day  !  Sybil  decided 
that  the  box  wanted  putting  in  order  ;  and  they 
emptied  all  the  different  kinds  of  shells  into  sepa- 
rate little  saucers,  and  dislodged  the  runaway  lit- 
tle shells  which  had  lodged  in  cracks  and  cor- 
ners, and  put  them  with  their  proper  kind.  To 
be  sure  the  job  was  rather  long  and  tedious,  but 
it  was  done  at  last,  and  well  done. 

There  were    other   amusements.      Before  break- 
fast  Chryssa  had  espied   a    peacock's    feather    in 


A    LETTER    AND     AN    ARRIVAL.  191 

one  of  the  trees  before  the  house  ;  and  after 
several  trials  Mr.  Rutherford  had  brought 
down  the  prize.  And  then  he  balanced  the 
long  slender  thing  on  his  forefinger,  to  Chryssa's 
great  delight. 

"  How  could  it  get  up  in  that  tree,  Uncle 
Ruth?"  she  said. 

"  I  suppose  the  peacock  roosted  there  last 
night." 

"  'Way  up  in  that  tree  ?" 

"Yes, — in  fine  weather  they  always  roost  in  the 
tree-tops,  and  when  it  is  going  to  rain  they  choose 
some  of  the  lower  branches." 

"  But  what  made  the  peacock  leave  it  there  ?" 
said  Chryssa. 

"  I  suppose  it  dropped  out  of  his  tail,"  said 
Mr.  Rutherford  smiling. 

"  I  hope  he  don't  want  it,"  said  Chryssa  as 
she  stroked  the  long  feather,  "for  I  like  to  have 
it  very  much." 

"He  must  do  without  it,"  said  her  uncle.  "We 
should  be  puzzled  to  put  the  feather  back  again, 
or  to  find  the  right  bird.     And  a  peacock's  tail- 


192  A    LETTER    AND     AN     ARRIVAL. 

feather  is  not  much  of  a  curiosity  to  himself, 
Chryssie." 

They  went  back  to  Rose  Hill  that  day.  The 
two  bantams  in  the  coach-box,  ia  a  most  un- 
comfortable state  of  mind  —  the  children  full  of 
pleasure  and  talk.  There  was  only  one  thing  to 
be  regretted  —  Chryssa  had  left  her  feather  at 
Cleaveland. 

But  as  she  remarked,  "she  could  get  it  next 
time." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX, 


TT    did    not    seem    likely    that    the    larger    box 

would    be    soon"  needed.      Collecting    went    on 

slowly.     Whatever  became  of  the  dead  butterflies 

they  did  not  fall  in  Chryssa's  way,  and  she  began 
9 


iy4  THE     CURIOSITY     BOS. 

almost  to  doubt  of  ever  finding  any.  To  be  sure, 
she  did  fiud  a  flying  grasshopper  lying  on  the  walk 
one  day,  but  he  did  not  look  near  so  pretty  with 
his  yellow  wings  folded  up  and  the  brown  ones 
lapped  over  them.  He  had  lost  one  of  his  legs 
too,  so  though  Chryssa  put  him  in  her  box  she 
did  not  think  much  of  him. 

One  morning  as  she  stood  in  the  grove  while 
the  chickens  eat  their  breakfast,  she  saw  on  one 
of  the  trees  what  seemed  to  be  the  wing  of  some 
insect  ;  and  looking  nearer  she  found  that  there 
was  a  little  hole  in  the  tree,  and  into  this  hole 
the  insect  had  crept.  It  seemed  to  be  dead,  for 
it  gave  no  heed  to  the  gentle  ascertaining  poke3 
of  Chryssa's  finger,  and  at  length  she  carefully 
pulled  it  out.  It  was  a  curious  kind  of  brown 
bug,  an  inch  and  a  half  long,  and  quite  dead. 
.  "  There,"  said  Sybil,  "  you  see  it's  worth  while 
to  look.  No  wonder  you  never  found  anything 
before.  This  you  got  by  taking  a  little  trouble 
for  it." 

Chryssa  felt   half    disappointed    nevertheless, — it 
was  a  bug  certainly,  but   it  wasn't  a  purple   but- 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX.  195 

terfly  nor  even  a  yellow  one.  However,  as  Sybil 
said,  she  had  got  it  by  taking  pains,  there  was 
something  in  that;  so  the  bug  went  to  keep  the 
grasshopper  company. 

But  the  little  tin  box  looked  very  empty 

"I  wish  I  could  find  something  to  put  in  my 
box,  Aunt  Esther,"  she  said. 

"  I  wish  you  could  my  dear.  Will  nothing  do 
but  butterflies  ?" 

"  0,  I'd  like  anything  curious,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Anything  curious.  "Well,  I  think  I  must  go 
curiosity-seeking  with  you  this  afternoon;  and  in 
the  mean  time  you  may  have  this,  if  you  think  it 
remarkable  enough  to  lie  alongside  of  the  brown 
bug." 

It  was  a  silk-worm's  cocoon. 

"01  like  it  dearly  !"  cried  Chryssa.  "  O 
thank    you   Aunt   Esther  I      Where    did    you    get 

a  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know  dear  ;  I  found  it  this  morning 
among  a  quantity  of  old  things  in  a  drawer." 

"  And  if  the  moth  should  come  out  and  should 
die,  I  might  keep  that  too,"  said  Chryssa. 


196  THE     CURIOSITY    BOX. 

Mrs.  Rutherford  smiled. 

"  I  don't  think  the  moth  will  ever  come  out," 
she  said,  "  I  must  have  had  that  cocoon  a  long 
time." 

'•  "Why  didn't  it  come  out  before,  I  wonder," 
said  Chryssa, — "do  you  think  this  was  once  put 
in  hot  water?" 

"  Maybe  so." 

"  Well  I'm  very  glad  I've  got  it,  and  perhaps 
we'll  find  some  more  this  afternoon." 

In  the  afternoon  however,  Chryssa's  patience 
was  sorely  tried,  for  one  visiter  after  another  came 
in,  and  she  began  to  despair  of  her  walk.  They 
were  not  people  that  she  and  Sybil  cared  to  see, 
either,  and  after  being  "  very  good"  and  very  tired 
for  some  time  on  the  little  benches  by  the  fire- 
place, they  jumped  up  and  ran  out  to  play  in  the 
hay. 

Now  it  was  well  that  Garret  was  so  good- 
uatured  a  man  ;  for  although  the  hay  itself  was 
in  no  danger  of  harm,  yet  to  see  the  nice  cocks 
which  he  had  carefully  put  up,  so  unceremoniously 
dealt   with,    was   or  might  have   been    a   trial   of 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX.  19T 

patience.  But  he  ivas  very  good-natured ;  and 
when  Sybil  plumped  down  upon  one  haycock,  and 
Chryssa  scrambled  up  to  the  top  of  another,  Gar- 
ret only  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  and  told  them 
they  were  making  him  "  a  fine  piece  of  work." 

I  suppose  there  never  was  anything  so  sweet 
as  hay — nor  anything  so  pleasant  as  to  tumble 
in  it ; — certainly  these  children  thought  so,  as 
they  chased  each  other  from  cock  to  cock,  and 
lay  at  the  bottom,  and  lay  at  the  top,  and  rolled 
all  the  way  down  ;  and  regarded  the  sharp  points 
of  the  hay  which  stuck  into  their  elbows  and 
knees  as  mere  trifles  of  life !  No,  there  never 
was  anything  half  so  pleasant ;  and  their  light 
weight  did  not  do  Garret  much  mischief  after  all. 

At  last,  fairly  tired,  they  sat  themselves  down 
against  a  large  haycock  near  the  gate,  to  rest 
and  grow  cool. 

"  I  should  think  grasshoppers  would  be  roasted 
to  death,'  was  Sybil's  first  remark  as  she  fanned 
herself  with  her  sunbonnet. 

"  Maybe    they  do,"    said    Chryssa,    "  only  their 


198  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

faces  don't  get  red.  And  I  s'pose  they  have  to 
hop." 

"  No,"  said  Sybil,  "  they  can  walk — I've  seen 
'em  walking  on  the  road." 

"  O  yes,  so  have  I,"  said  Chryssa,  "  but  they 
look  so  funny.  I  don't  believe  they  could  walk 
far.  Oh  dear  !  I'm  afraid  we  shan't  walk  a  bit 
this  whole  afternoon  1" 

"There  comes  one  of  the  people,  at  last,"  said 
Sybil :  "  maybe  the  rest  will  follow  him.  What 
book  has  he  got  in  his  hand,  I  wonder  ?  he 
didn't  have  one  when  he  came.  I  hope  he  hasn't 
been  borrowing  some  of  mine.  I  do  believe  that's 
my  Sandford  and  Merton  !     Run  and  see,  Chryssa." 

"0  no  ! — I  can't,"  said  her  sister. 

"  But  you  must !  run  quick  or  he'll  be  out  of 
the  gate." 

"Well  why  don't  you  go?"  said  Chryssa.  "/ 
don't  want  to  know  what  he's  got." 

"  No,  I  want  you  to  go  ;  now  Chryssa  run  ! 
I  tell  you  he'll  be  gone." 

"I  don't  care  if  he  is,"  said  Chryssa,  getting 
up  very   slowly ;    for    she    didn't    like    the    job, 


THE    CURIOSITY     BOX.  199 

though  Sybil's  seniority  and  earnestness  prevailed 
according  to  custom.  "  I  wish  he  was,  I'm  sure  I 
What  shall  I  say  ?" 

"Tell  him  he  can't  have  it,  that  I'm  reading 
it." 

By  no  means  resolved  to  tell  him  that,  or  any- 
thing, Chryssa  set  forth  and  walked  towards  the 
gate  ;  rather  sidling  along  among  the  haycocks, 
and  in  perfect  uncertainty  what  to  do.  By  sun- 
dry timid  looks  however,  she  satisfied  herself  of 
what  she  was  most  willing  to  believe,  that  the 
book  in  question  was  not  Sandford  and  Merton  ; 
so  waiting  till  the  gate  closed  upon  the  gentle- 
man, she  returned  to  her  sister. 

"  Well,  what  did  he  say  ?" 

"  I  didn't  ask  him — I  didn't  think  it  looked 
like  Sandford  and  Merton." 

"What  did  it  look  like?  any  of  my  books? 
my  Son  of  a  Genius?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Did  you  go  up  to  him  ?" 

"No  indeed,  I  was  afraid  to." 

"Afraid!"  said  Sybil.     "Well  you  are  a   nice 


200  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

child   to  do  anything,   I  do  think  I"  and   she  got 
up  and  walked  to  the  house. 

All  the  visiters  were  gone,  but  it  was  too  late 
for  a  walk.  Mr.  Rutherford  presently  came  home, 
and  they  had  tea,  and  after  tea  a  great  romp 
with  the  kittens. 

Cupid  and  Bess  were  in  a  most  flourishing 
state  of  health  and  happiness,  and  not  even  the 
older  part  of  the  family  could  help  laughing  at 
their  antics  ;  while  the  mirth  of  the  children  was 
unmeasured. 

Bess  would  set  up  her  tail  in  the  air,  and  with 
a  most  wild  look  of  ears  and  eyes  catch  hold  of 
the  green  baize  with  her  claws,  shake  it,  ther 
with  another  set  of  the  tail  frisk  off,  hotly  pur 
sued  by  Cupid — who  all  this  time  had  lain  ir 
close  ambush  under  a  chair.  Then  came  a.  roll 
and  a  tumble,  a  boxing  of  ears  and  kicking,  a 
jump  off  and  a  standing  at  defiance,  and  then 
another  roll  and  another  frisk.  Then  Sybil  would 
lift  up  one  corner  of  the  cloth  and  throw  it  over 
one  or  both  of  the  kittens,  and  such  a  fuss  as 
there  was  then  !  and  such  a  time  when  they  were 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX.  201 

released !  The  kittens  played  and  the  children 
laughed  till  bedtime,  and  neither  one  nor  the 
other  knew  how  the  evening  passed. 

The  next  morning  as  usual  Chryssa  was  out 
very  early  among  the  flowers  ;  but  as  she  stepped 
carefully  on  the  border,  where  her  foot  would  do 
no  harm,  to  look  at  a  little  caper  tree  just  then  in 
fruit,  she  was  checked  by  something  drawn  tight 
across  her  forehead, — as  if  the  fairy  of  the  caper- 
tree  had  put  up  a  light  barrier.  Chryssa  drew 
back,  and  then  saw  what  seemed  like  a  spider's 
web — all  begemmed  with  dewdrops,  and  stretching 
from  a  rosebush  on  one  side  of  the  caper-tree  to 
a  rosebush  on  the  other.  But  could  it  be  a  spi- 
der's web  ?  it  looked  and  felt  more  like  a  thread 
of  fine  sewing-silk.  Her  doubts  were  soon  an- 
swered, for  looking  up  a  little  higher  she  saw  the 
proprietor  of  this  thread  and  some  others  like  it, 
in  the  shape  of  a  very  large  and  beautiful  spider. 
His  body  was  perhaps  as  large  as  a  common  bee- 
tle and  of  a  bright  yellow  colour,  but  with  sundry 
stripes  of  black  and  red  ;  and  his  leg3  quite  large 
enoncrh   to  support   it.     Chryssa   felt   reallv  afraid 

9* 


202  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

of  him,  for  though  he  hung  there  very  peaceably 
in  his  web  she  thought  he  looked  fierce  enough. 
Me  a  tally  she  transferred  him  to  her  tin  box  ;  but 
as  for  anything  further,  she  would  hardly  have 
ventured  to  touch  him  if  he  had  been  dead.  So 
she  contented  herself  with  gently  touching  the 
lowest  thread  from  time  to  time  with  her  finger, 
and  thinking  how  very  strong  it  was,  how  beauti- 
ful the  spider,  and  how  very  little  she  would  like 
to  have  him  jump  upon  her.  Moreover  she  won- 
dered if  he  had  stayed  out  all  night  in  the  clew, 
and  if  such  remarkable  spiders  were  to  be  found 
in  anybody's  garden  but  their  own.  She  was  just 
running  to  call  her  uncle  to  see  the  insect,  when 
she  herself  was  called  to  breakfast. 

At  breakfast  the  children  were  told  that  Mrs. 
Lee,  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Rutherford's,  was  coming  to 
stay  a  week  at  Rose  Hill.  This  announcement 
gave,  great  pleasure  and  plenty  to  talk  about. 

"  Is  Aunt  Eunice  going  to  bring  all  her  children?" 
said  Sybil  as  they  sat  upstairs  after  breakfast. 

'•  No — only  Fulvi.  Kitty  stays  at  home  to  keep 
house." 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX.  203 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa,  who  had  been 
thinking  in  very  grave  silence,  "  do  you  like 
Fulvi  ?  is  she  a  nice  child  ?" 

"What  do  you  think,  Chryssie  ?" 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  in  a  great  while,"  said 
Chryssa  with  a  considering  look.  "I  don't  know 
— I  used  to  like  her  very  much.  But  I  was 
thinking  of  what  she  did  about  the  gooseberries. 
Was  that  right?" 

"  What  did  she  do  about  the  gooseberries  ? 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

"Don't  you  remember  Aunt  Esther — when  I 
was  a  very  little  child  and  told  a  story  ?" 

The  case  was  this.  When  Chryssa  was  indeed 
a  very  little  child  Fulvi  Lee  paid  a  visit  at  Rose 
Hill  ;  and  she  and  Chryssa  one  morning  helped  Mrs. 
Rutherford  to  pull  the  stems  off  a  quantity  of 
gooseberries.  Having  occasion  to  go  downstairs 
Mrs.  Rutherford  left  the  two  children  and  the 
dish  in  the  upper  hall,  bidding  them  take  no  more 
berries  as  she  thought  they  had  eaten  enough. 
But  the  temptation  was  too  strong,  and  Chryssa 
took  one  more — just  one. 


204  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

When  Mrs.  Rutherford  came  back  she  asked  if 
they  had  touched  the  fruit ;  and  upon  another 
temptation  Chryssa  answered,  though  hesitatingly, 
no. 

"Yes  she  did,"  said  Fnlvi,  "I  saw  her  take 
one." 

There  was  no  need  that  anybody  should  say  a 
word  more,  for  Mrs.  Rutherford's  look  of  sorrow 
called  forth  tears  enough  to  be  long  remembered; 
and  even  now  Chryssa  could  not  speak  of  the 
time  without  a  sad  face.  But  though  she  did 
not  wish  that  Fulvi  had  kept  silence,  her  speak- 
ing did  not  quite  suit  Chryssa's  notions  of  high- 
mindedness. 

They  went  to  walk  that  afternoon,  to  see  what 
could  be  found  in  the  way  of  curiosities  ;  and 
Chryssa  carried  a  little  basket  which  gave  Sybil 
at  least  one  laugh. 

"Do   you   think   you   will   get   that   basket   full 
of  butterflies  in  one  walk  ?"  she  said. 
.    "But  I  must  take  something,"  said  Chryssa. 

"Very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford;  "and  a 
basket  so  small  that  it  would  hold  only  one  but- 


THE     C'lKIOSU'Y     box.  205 

terfly  would  hardly  keep  that  from  tumbling  out. 
See,  here  is  something  curious  already.'*  She  had 
picked  up  a  twig  with  one  or  two  brown  rough- 
looking  knobs  on  it  near  the  end. 

"Those  little  knots  of  wood!"  said  Sybil.  "0 
Aunt  Esther,  you  are  laughing  at  her  now  your- 
self." 

"Indeed  I  am  not; — in  the  first  place  they  are 
not  knots  of  wood,  and  in  the  second  they  are 
very  curious." 

"Well  what  are  they  then?"  said  Sybil  a  little 
impatiently. 

"They  are  oak  galls.  Some  insects  you  know 
lay  their  eggs  vpon  leaves  and  twigs,  but  there 
are  others  which  first  make  a  puncture  in  the 
twig  or  the  leaf." 

"  What  is  a  puncture  ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"If  I  were  to  prick  your  arm  with  this  pin 
I  should  make  a  puncture  in  it,"  said  her  aunt. 
"  The  pin  would  leave  a  little  bit  of  a  hole 
through  the  skin.  The  gall-fly  makes  such  a  lit- 
tle hole  through  the  skin  of  the  leaf  or  the  bark 
of  the   twig,  and  in  this  little   hole   she  deposits 


206  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

an  egg;  and  the  substance  of  the  twig  being  thus 
wounded  grows  out  over  the  egg  and  by  degrees 
covers  it  entirely;  sometimes  with  such  a  rough 
knob  as  this,  sometimes  with  a  smooth  little  round 
ball." 

"  But  what  becomes  of  the  egg  ?"  said  Sybil. 
"  I  should  think  it  would  spoil  it  to  be  covered 
up  with  all  that  stuff." 

'•  It  is  that  very  stuff  which  preserves  it.  The 
egg  is  kept  from  too  much  heat  or  cold  or  wet, 
and  when  the  grub  is  hatched  it  lives  there  quite 
safe  through  all  the  stages  of  its  growth,  then 
changes  into  a  chrysalis,  and  then  the  little  gall- 
fly eats  its  way  out,  and  goes  to  lay  its  eggs  on 
some  other  twig.  Look,  do  you  see  that  little 
hole  ?" 

"Well  that  is  curious  to  be  sure,"  said  Sybil. 
"  But  what  does  the  worm  live  on  in  there  ?" 

"  On  the  substance  of  the  gall." 

"  Here  is  one  without  any  hole  in  it,"  said 
Chryssa  ;  "  I  have  turned  it  round  and  round." 

Mrs  Rutherford  cut  it  open,  and  there  to  be 
sure  was  a  little  worm.    • 


THE     CURIOSITY     BOX.  207 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't  cut  that  one,  Aunt  Esther," 
said  Chryssa,  "though  it  can't  be  helped,  and  I'm 
glad  we  saw  the  worm,  too;  but  I  should  like  to 
have  one  with  a  hole  and  one  without  a  hole." 

The  gall  was  placed  in  Chryssa's  basket  and 
they  walked  on. 

"  Are  galls  good  for  anything  ?"  said  Sybil. 

"  Not  this  kind ;  but  the  oak  galls  which  are 
brought  from  the  East  Indies  and  from  those 
countries  that  border  on  the  Mediterranean  are 
very  valuable.  They  are  used  to  make  ink  and 
in  dyeing." 

"  And  do  they  dye  things  this  pretty  brown  co- 
lour ?"  said  Chryssa. 

"  No  dear,  they  dye  them  black." 

The  walk  had  begun  with  good  promise,  but 
as  they  went  on  and  on  nothing  more  appeared, 
though  Chryssa's  eyes  and  hands  too,  hunted  about 
on  every  side.  Flowers  there  were  in  abundance, 
but  they  were  not  the  things  most  desired  at 
present ;  though  the  beautiful  bunches  of  meadow 
asclepias,  and  the  more  splendid  scarlet  hibiscus 
that  grew  in   a  wilderness  of  wild  plants   by   the 


208  T  H  E     C  U  R  I  0  S  I T  Y     I!  0  X  . 

water,  could  not  be  passed  without  gathering. 
There  were  butterflies  too,  in  plenty ;  but  they 
only  flitted  about  in  the  sunshine  and  refreshed 
themselves  with  sips  of  honey,  in  perfect  disregard 
of  Chryssa  and  her  basket ;  and  she  could  not 
find  it  in  her  heart  to  be  sorry  that  they  were 
alive  and  in  such  comfortable  circumstances.  But 
she  did  sigh  a  little,  once,  when  she  looked  from 
a  great  swallow-tail  down  into  her  basket. 

"  Cheer  up,  Chryssie  !"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford 
smiling, — "  collectors  of  curiosities  must  never  be 
discouraged. 

"  But  I've  found  nothing  Aunt  Esther,  only 
this  one  gall — and  you  found  that." 

"Well  dear — if  patience  doesn't  give  way,  it 
will  grow  all  the  stronger  for  being  tried.  Dis- 
appointments are  better  than  butterflies  sometimes, 
and  maybe  we  shall  find  the  butterflies  to-mor- 
row." 

"Well,  maybe  we  shall,"  said  Chryssa  trying 
hard  to  look  bright,  and  realizing  as  some  other 
people  have  done,  that  if  patience  be  "a  good 
root"  it  is  not  a  very  sweet  one.     "I  s'pose  people 


THE     CCRIOSITY    BOX.  209 

don't  generally  find  a  great  deal  at  once.  Will 
you  please  to  hold  my  flowers  Aunt  Esther  ?  be- 
cause I  can't  crawl  under  the  fence  with  my  hands 
so  full.'' 

But  when  Chryssa  had  crawled  far  enough  to 
get  exactly  under  the  rails,  she  called  oat  in  a 
tone  of  great  delight, 

"  0  I've  found  something  now !  I've  found 
something  now !  It  isn't  a  butterfly  but  it's  a 
beetle  !  A  srreat  vellow  beetle — with  such  shining 
wings.     I  guess  he's  dead.'' 

The  beetle  was  dead,  and  so  made  no  objection 
to  Chryssa's  picking  him  up ;  which  indeed  she 
did  with  a  carefulness  that  could  not  have  hurt 
a  live  beetle. 

"Don't  you  mean  to  come  out  from  under  the 
fence,  Chryssa  ?"  said  Sybil,  who  by  this  time 
had  jumped  over. 

•"  Yes,  I'm  coming,'1  said  Chryssa.  "  but  the 
fence  isn't  very  high — from  the  ground  I  mean. 
Look  !  isn't  he  beautiful  ?" 

Even  Sybil  declared  he  was  "quite  pretty," 
and  well  satisfied  now.  Chryssa  reached  home  and 


210  THE     CURIOSITY     BOX. 

ran  upstairs  for  her  tin  box.  Down  she  came  in 
a  minute  again,  and  asked  Mrs.  Rutherford  if 
she  couldn't  give  her  "  some  little  old  box." 

"Is  the  tin  box  full,  Chryssa?" 

"  No  Aunt  Esther,  but  this  gall  that  you  gave 
me  is  so  heavy  I'm  afraid  it  will  roll  about  and 
break  my  yellow  beetle ;  and  I  should  like  an- 
other little  box  so  much." 

Mrs.  Rutherford  hunted  up  an  old  wafer  box 
which  was  just  the  thing  ;  but  as  it  was  thought 
to  be  too  handsome  for  the  gall,  the  yellow  bee- 
tle was  shut  up  there  in  solitary  grandeur. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 


CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN, 


"  TTr^^'T  y°u  come  and  see  me  feed  the  chickens 
this  morning,  Uncle  Ruth  ?"  said  Chryssa. 
"Pray  do,  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Sybil,  "it's  really 
curious.     Do  you  know  when  Chryssa  stoops  down 


212  CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN. 

near  the  coop,  the  chickens  jump  up  on  her 
back." 

"  And  O  Uncle  Ruth  !"  added  Chryssa,  "  some- 
times all  the  chickens  have  run  down  the  bank 
except  one,  and  when  he  sees  me  coming  he 
runs  and  calls  the  others,  and  then  they  all  run 
home  as  fast  as  they  can." 

"  Call  each  other  to  breakfast !"  said  Mr. 
Rutherford  as  he  followed  the  children.  "That's 
a  likely  story  !" 

"  But  they  really  do,"  said  Sybil.  "  I  never 
saw  anything  so  funny." 

"There's  nobody  here  now  but  Browny,"  said 
Chryssa  as  she  ran  up  to  the  coop.  "  Chickie, 
chickie  !     Now  Uncle  Ruth  you  watch." 

Certainly  Browny's  behaviour  was  remarkable. 
Instead  of  picking  up  the  meal  which  Chryssa 
threw  down  by  the  coop,  he  ran  off  to  the  edge 
of  the  bank,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  other 
chickens  -were  disporting  themselves  ;  and  whether 
he  called  to  them — or  whether  his  appearance 
alone  was  to  be  considered  as  the  breakfast-bell — 
a  kind  of  telegraphic  despatch   that  Chryssa  had 


CHRYSSA  AXD  HER  COUSIN.      213 

arrived, — it  is  true  that  the  whole  brood  came 
scampering  up  just  as  fast  as  little  legs  and  half- 
grown  wings  could  bring  them, — and  that  was 
pretty  fast.  And  when  they  had  eaten  enough, 
and  Chryssa  came  and  crouched  down  by  the 
coop  ;  she  had  a  grey  chicken  on  her  head  and 
a  white  one  on  her  shoulder  in  no  time, — exactly 
as  Sybil  had  said. 

"  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Chryssa  as  they  walked 
back  to  the  house,  "do  you  know  that. my  little 
bantam  hen  made  a  nest  by  one  of  the  locust 
trees,  and  there  were  seven  eggs  in  it ;  and  yester- 
day she  came  off  with  seven  little  bantam  chickens, 
and  Garret  says  she  went  into  the  long  grass 
where  he  couldn't  find  her.  And  now  he  says 
he's  afraid  to  mow  there  for  fear  he  should 
tread  on  the  chickens." 

"  He  must  watch  for  them  to-night,"  said  Mr. 
Rutherford.  "Perhaps  the  hen  will  not  choose 
to  sleep  in  the  grass,  and  she  may  take  them 
back  to  the  nest  again." 

It  came  into  Chryssa's  head  that  it  would  be 
a  fine  piece  of  fun  to  look  for  the  chickens  her- 


214  CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN. 

self ;  so  she  set  off  for  the  plat  of  unmown  grass, 
and  Filly  went  after  her. 

Filly  was  a  little  white  dog  belonging  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  as  fond  of  hay  and  of  play  as  they  were. 

By  the  time  Chryssa  reached  the  place  where 
the  hen  was  supposed  to  lie  hid,  she  had  got 
into  a  great  frolic  with  Filly. 

It  was  a  nice  place  for  a  frolic.  All  about 
under  foot  the  cut  grass  lay  in  soft  masses,  now 
higher  now  lower ;  while  at  the  edge  of  this 
part  of  the  meadow,  redtop  and  clover  lifted 
their  pretty  heads  untouched  as  yet  by  Garret's 
scythe,  and  swayed  and  swept  to  and  fro  as 
the  summer  breeze  went  by  on  its  wanderings. 
Chryssa  forgot  all  about  the  chickens,  and  began 
to  run  races  with  Filly,  and  to  cover  him  up 
with  the  cut  grass  ;  and  then  she  took  a  run  in 
the  grass  that  was  not  cut,  and  as  it  was  rather 
long  for  Filly's  short  legs  he  went  bounding  after 
her — taking  leaps  that  were  pretty  to  see  ;  and 
no  less  pretty  were  his  white  head  and  soft 
feathery  tail  among  the  sunshiny  green  grass. 

All  at  once  Chryssa  heard  a  queer  little  noise — 


CHRYSSA     AND     HER    COUSIN.  215 

not  like  a  hen  clucking  or  cackling,  but  such  a 
noise  as  a  hen  might  make  if  she  should  chance 
to  snore.  Chryssa  jumped  out  into  the  clear 
space  and  looked  about  her  ;  and  there,  cautiously 
peeping  out  from  among  the  standing  grass,  were 
the  red  comb  and  the  yellow  beak  of  the  little 
runaway  hen. 

"  Oh  Filly,"  said  Chryssa,  "  this  will  never 
do  I"  and  then  she  danced  off  away  from  the 
bantam,  and  of  course  Filly,  being  an  unsuspect- 
ing little  dog,  danced  after  her ;  though  if  he 
had  known  what  lay  hid  in  the  grass  he  would 
have  danced  just  the  other  way,  for  it  would 
have  been  his  perfect  delight  to  frighten  every 
one  of  the  chickens  out  of  its  wits. 

But  Chryssa  got  him  away  to  the  house,  and 
when  he  was  safely  shut  up  there  she  went  back 
with  Garret  to  see  after  the  chickens  ;  and  be- 
fore long  the  whole  brood  with  their  little  feather- 
footed  mother  were  in  a  nice  coop.  Chryssa  her- 
self caught  several  of  the  little  downy  things, 
though  they  hid  among  the  grass  till  it  was  hard 
to  find  them. 


216  CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN. 

Mrs.  Lee  arrived  that  night,  but  so  late  that 
the  children  had  little  more  than  time  to  look 
at  each  other  and  then  go  to  bed.  But  long 
before  the  tired  travellers  thought  of  getting  up 
next  morning,  Chryssa  was  on  the  watch  for 
their  first  movement  ;  and  as  soon  as  she  heard 
steps  in  Mrs.  Lee's  room  she  begged  for  admit- 
tance. 

Fulvia  Lee  was  putting  on  her  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, and  Chryssa  stood  by  to  see  with  her  hands 
behind  her. 

"  I  hope  you  feel  rested,"  she  said,  "  because 
we  shall  want  to  run  about  a  great  deal  to-day." 

"  What  for  ?"  said  Fulvi,  who  being  a  city 
child  had  but  limited  ideas  of  running  about. 

"  Why  because  it's  pleasant !"  said  Chryssa, — 
"  and  to  find  things.  Have  you  got  any  green 
shoes  ?" 

"No,"  said  Fulvi. 

"Uncle  Ruth  bought  mc  a  pair  last  week." 

"  I  have  got  some  red  ones,"  said  Fulvia. 

"  Have  you  ?"  said  Chryssa  :  "I  dare  say  they 
must  be  very  pretty.     Are  they  pink  or  red  ?" 


CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN.  217 

"Red,"  said  Fulvi, — "they're  just  as  red  ag 
mamma's  shawl." 

Chryssa  thought  something  less  red  would  suit 
her  taste  better,  but  she  only  said, 

"  Did  you  ever  see  any  purple  butterflies  ?" 

"No,"  said  Fulvi  again.  "I  saw  two  butterflies 
once,  but  they  were  yellow." 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  have  come  !"  said  Chryssa, 
"  for  now  we  can  look  for  things  together  ;  you 
shall  keep  all  you  find  and  I'll  keep  all  I  find, — 
that'll  be  fair.  Don't  you  like  yellow  beetles  very 
much  ?" 

"I  don't  know  what  they  are." 

"Well  they're  like — no  they're  not  like  a  but- 
terfly either,  but  they've  got  hard  shiny  wings  and 
such  sharp  feet ! — my  yellow  beetle  always  sticks 
to  my  hands  when  I  take  him  up." 

"I  shouldn't  like  them  then,"  said  Fulvi. 

"  0  yes  you  would,  very  much,  'cause  they're 
beautiful.  They're  dead  you  know,  they  couldn't 
hurt  you.     I  shouldn't  like  a  live  one,  either." 

"  Shall  we   find   any   purple    butterflies  V    said 

Fulvi. 

10 


218  CHRYSSA     AND     HER    COUSIN. 

"0  yes!"  said  Chryssa.  "At  least  I  haven't 
Ibimd  any  yet,  but  I  hope  we  shall.  Have  you 
got  any  little  chickens?" 

"  I  haven't  got  any — I've  seen  'em." 

"Well  I've  got  a  great  many, — at  least  I've  got 
seven  of  my  own  and  Uncle  Ruth  lets  me  feed  his." 

"Who  gave  you  yours?"  said  Fulvi. 

"  Grandmamma  gave  me  two  old  little  white 
ones,  when  I  went  to  Cleaveland,  and  the  hen 
made  a  nest  under  a  tree  and  now  she's  got  seven 
chickens.  She  took  'em  into  the  grass  and  we 
had  such  work  to  find  'em !  and  Filly  almost 
found  them  too." 

"Who's  Filly?" 

"  My  little  dog — at  least  our  little  dog, — Sybil's 
and  mine." 

"  I  mean  to  have  some  chickens  when  I  go 
home,"  said  Fulvia.     "  I've  got  two  pigeons  now." 

"  Pigeons  !"  said  Chryssa,  "  0  they  are  beautiful. 
Henry  said  he  would  bring  us  some  next  time  he 
came.     Are  yours  fantail  pigeons?" 

"I  guess  not,"  said  Fulvi.  "What  are  fantail 
pigeons  ?" 


CHRYS3A     AND     HER      COUSIN.  219 

"  They've  got  such  queer  tails,"  said  Chryssa, — 
"  they  stretch  them  out  just  like  a  fan.  I  saw 
some  at  Mr.  Grandin's.  O  I  wish  you'd  been 
here  !  We  saw  some  silk-worms  too ;  but  I'll 
show  you  my  cocoon.  And  Aunt  Esther  says 
that  maybe  we'll  go  to  Cleaveland  while  you're 
here,  and  then  we'll  have  such  fine  times  !" 

"Where  is  Cleaveland?"  said  Fulvia,  whose 
imagination  could  hardly  keep  up  with  Chryssa's 
rapid  stream  of  delights,  past,  present,  and  future. 

"  My  grandmother  lives  there,"  said  Chryssa, 
"  and  it's  a  beautiful  place,  and  she's  got  a  great 
many  shells." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Fulvia.  "  Fve  got  a  box  full. 
A  man  who'd  been  in  a  ship  a  great  way  off, 
picked  them  up,  and  he  gave  them  to  me.  I've 
got  some  coral  too." 

"Fve  got  a  coral  necklace,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  Now  shall  we  go  feed  the  chickens  ? — O  no, 
it'll  be  too  wet.  But  we  can  kneel  in  the  chairs 
by  the  window,  and  I'll  show  you  where  the 
coops  are.  I'll  go,  and  you  come  when  you  are 
ready." 


220  CHRYSSA     AND     HER    COUSIN. 

"  I'm  all  ready  now,"  said  Fulvi. 

"  Bat  you  haven't  said  your  prayers  yet,"  said 
Chryssa  stopping  short. 

"  No" — said  Fulvia.  "  I  don't  always, — some- 
times I  do  and  sometimes  I  forget  it." 

"  Well,  but  you  don't  forget  it  now,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  No,"  said  Fulvia.  "  0  come  ! — I  don't  want 
to  wait  now." 

"  But  you  do  want  a  great  many  other  things," 
said  Chryssa.  "  You  want  to  be  well,  and  to 
have  a  pleasant  day,  and  you  don't  want  to  say 
or  do  anything  naughty.  I  think  it's  very  dis- 
agreeable to  feel  naughty,  don't  you  ?  And  Aunt 
Esther  says  we  can't  help  it  unless  God  helps 
us." 

And  leaving  Fulvi  half  persuaded  of  the  benefits 
of  saying  her  prayers  at  least  when  she  didn't 
forget  it,  Chryssa  went  down  stairs  and  waited 
for  her  in  the  parlour  window. 

After  breakfast  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Salisbury  arrived, 
and  as  they  had  come  to  spend  the  day  the 
horse  was   taken  out  of  the   gig  and  put   to  re- 


CHRYSSA    AND     HER     COUSIN.  221 

fresh  himself  in  the  stable,  and  the  gig  was  left 
under  the  willow  tree. 

When  Chryssa  had  told  all  the  news  about  the 
bantams,  and  had  eaten  several  pears  from  her 
grandmother's  basket,  she  drew  Fulvia  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  now  we'll  go  and  sit  in 
the  gig." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  of  the  horses,"  said  Fulvi. 

"  Why  there  aren't  any  horses  there,"  said 
Chryssa, — "  there  never  was  but  one  to  begin 
with." 

"  I  saw  three  in  the  stable,"  said  Fulvi. 

"  But  the  gig  isn't  in  the  stable — I  mean 
grandpapa's  gig,  down  under  the  willow  tree." 

So  they  ran  to  the  willow  tree  and  clambered 
into  the  gig. 

Whoever  has  seen  this  little  vehicle  with  no 
horse  attached,  will  remember  that  the  shafts 
rest  upon  the  ground,  so  that  the  seat  is  in  any- 
thing but  a  horizontal  position  ;  and  this  gig 
was  just  like  all  others.  It  tilted  up  behind  in 
the   most  remarkable    manner,  and  why  the   chil- 


222       CHRYSSA  AND  HER  COUSIN. 

dren  liked  to  stay  there  is  a  mystery,  but  like 
it  they  did ;  and  though  they  slipped  and  slid 
off  the  seat,  while  the  smooth  oil-cloth  on  the 
floor  kept  their  feet  slipping  and  sliding  as  well — 
there  they  stayed  ;  and  talked  and  jumped  ill  and 
out  until  dinner  was  ready. 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  the  morning  ?"  said 
Mr.  Salisbury  as  the  two  children  came  in  with 
glowing  and  happy  faces, — "hunting  chickens  or 
choking  the  cat?" 

"0  no  grandpapa,"  said  Chryssa,  "  we  have 
been  playing  in  the  gig." 

"  In  the  gig  !  why  child  I  shouldn't  think  you 
could  stay  there  two  minutes.  You  couldn't  sit 
on  the  seat,  I'm  positive." 

"  0  yes  we  did,"  said  Chryssa.  "At  least 
sometimes  we  stood  up,  but  sometimes  we  sat 
down  too." 

After  dinner  the  children  played  in  the  garret 
for  a  while,  and  by  the  time  they  were  tired  of 
dolls  and  swinging,  Mrs.  Rutherford  gave  them 
each  a  string  of  blue  and  a  string  of  red  beads, 
which  she  had  just  found  in  her  drawer. 


CHRYSSA    AND     HER    COUSIN.  223 

Here  was  work  enough  for  the  rest  of  the 
day.  The  strings  were  immediately  cut,  and  then 
began  the  business  of  restringing.  It  was  not 
easy  to  get  the  right  sort  of  needle,  for  one  that 
was  large  enough  for  the  thread  was  too  large 
for  the  beads ;  and  many  were  the  wishes  ex- 
pressed for  a  horse  hair,  which  Sybil  said  would 
go  through  any  beads  that  ever  were  heard  of. 
But  this  difficulty  was  got  over  and  the  work 
went  on  swimmingly.  The  beads  were  strung  and 
restrung  in  all  sorts  of  fancy  patterns, — two  blue 
and  one  red,  and  two  red  and  one  blue,  or  five 
red  and  three  blue,  or  a  blue  necklace  with  red 
stars.  Then  Chryssa  concluded  that  she  preferred 
simplicity,  and  her  beads  were  left  in  one  long 
string  of  two  and  two  ;  while  Fulvia  chose  the 
still  simpler  style  of  one  and  one. 

Then  Chryssa's  string  broke  and  the  beads 
went  rolling  over  the  floor,  several  of  them  watch- 
ing their  opportunity  to  slip  into  a  mouse-hole  or 
a  crack,  so  that  Chryssa  could  by  no  means  get 
them  all  again.  And  then  Fulvi  very  generously 
offered    to    give    Chryssa    some    of    hers,    which 


224  CHRYSSA     AND     HER    COUSIN. 

Chryssa  would  not  hear  of ;  and  when  they  were 
at  last  all  in  order  again,  Sybil  came  and  pro- 
posed that  they  should  make  some  earrings  for 
Miss  Jenkins.  Then  little  short  pieces  of  thread 
were  filled  with  beads  and  tied  so  as  to  make  a 
loop  ;  and  several  of  these  loops  fastened  together 
made  the  earring.  The  great  difficulty  was  how 
they  should  be  worn,  for  Miss  Jenkins  had  no 
very  perceptible  ears,  but  Sybil  undertook  to 
manage  that ;  and  when  she  had  thrust  a  crooked 
pin  into  each  side  of  the  doll's  head,  where  ber 
ears  ought  to  have  been,  the  bead  loops  hung 
on  there  well  enough,  and  Miss  Jenkins  was 
adorned, — at  least  the  children  thought  so. 

"What  shall  we  do  now?"  said  Fulvia  when 
tea  was  over,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Salisbury  had 
gone.  "We  must  do  something  Chryssa,  because 
I  don't  want  to  get  sleepy.  Mamma  would  make 
me  go  right  to  bed." 

"  I'd  just  as  leave  go  to  bed  as  not,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  But  you  mustn't  go  till  I  do.  Let's  sit  down 
in  the  corner  and  you  tell  me  a  fairy-tale." 


CHRYSSA    AND    HER    COUSIN.  225 

"0  1  don't  know  any,"  said  Chryssa.  "  Sybil 
knows  a  great  many,  and  she  tells  them  to  me 
sometimes.  But  she  won't  come  now — she's  read- 
ing.    I  know  some  hymns." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Fulvia,  "  and  I  know  some 
little  poetry  stories.     Come  you  begin." 

"  No  you  must  begin,"  said  Chryssa  stroking 
her  frock  off  her  lap  with  great  satisfaction. 

"Well  I'll  begin  then,"  said  Fulvi.  "It's  a 
story  about  a  little  cat  and  a  bird's  nest." 

"  0  that  must  be  beautiful,"  said  Chryssa. 
"  Who  taught  it  to  you  ?" 

"  My  cousin,  and  she  said  it  was  all  true 

"  Pussy  !  pussy !  mischievous  cat  I 
What  in  the  world  would  you  be  at  f 
Ah  come  away 
Pussy,  I  pray ! 

"A  bird  in  that  hawthorn  has  her  nest; 
See  what  a  flutter  is  in  her  breast! 
Poor  little  thing, 
She  fears  your  spring. 

"  The  fruit  of  many  an  hour's  toil 
Tour  little  savage  paw  would  spoil. 
Leave  it  alone 
Till  the  young  are  flown. 
10* 


226  CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN. 

'•  For  pussy,  you  have  enough  to  eat — 
Plenty  of  other  food  just  as  sweet. 
It's  a  shame  to  kill 
When  you've  had  your  fill. 

"  Tis  not  of  much  use  to  talk  to  a  cat,— 
A  very  few  mornings  after  that 
The  nest  was  torn, 
The  old  bird  forlorn." 

"  What  is  forlorn  V  said  Chryssa. 

"  Mamma  said  it  meant  that  the  bird  hadn't 
anything  left  in  the  world  that  she  cared  about." 

"  Why,  did  the  cat  eat  all  the  young  birds  ?" 
said  Chryssa. 

"  Yes,  every  one  of  them." 

"  I  hope  my  cat  won't  do  so,"  said  Chryssa 
thoughtfully.  "0  I  think  that's  perfectly  beau- 
tiful /" 

"  It's  perfectly  time  to  go  to  bed,"  said  Mrs. 
Lee  coming  up  to  their  corner. 

"  0  but  mamma,"  said  Fulvi,  "  Chryssa  hasn't 
said  her  hymn  yet." 

"  Well  she  may  say  it  now  then,  and  I'll  hear 
it  too." 

"  I  don't  know  which  to  choose,"  said  Chryssa, 
"  but  I  Vpose  you'd  like  them  all." 


CHRYSSA     AND     HER     COUSIN  227 

''  I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old, 
When  Jesus  was  here  among  men, 
How  he  called  little  children  as  lambs  to  his  fold, 
I  should  like  to  have  been  with  him  then. 

'  I  wish  that  his  hands  had  been  placed  on  my  head, 

That  his  arms  had  been  thrown  around  me, 
That  I  might  have  seen  his  kind  look,  when  he  said, 
'Let  the  little  ones  come  unto  me.' 

'  Yet  still  to  his  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 

And  ask  for  a  share  in  his  love; 
And  if  I  thus  earnestly  seek  him  below, 
I  shall  see  him  and  hear  him  above: 

'  In  that  beautiful  place  he  has  gone  to  prepare 
For  all  who  are  washed  and  forgiven; 
And  many  dear  children  are  gathering  there, 
'  For  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.' " 


CHAPTER  XV. 


GOING    A    PLEASURING. 


rjlHEY  went  to  Cleaveland.  Mrs.  Lee  and  Mrs. 
Rutherford  on  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage. 
Sybil  and  Mr.  Rutherford  on  the  front,  while  the 
no-particular  seat  between  each  two  was  well 
filled  by  Fulvi  and  Chryssa. 


GOING     A     PLEASURING.  229 

A  beautiful  day  it  was,  with  a  clear  north 
wind  and  fast-driving  white  clouds ;  the  trees 
bending  and  swaying  and  all  the  bonnet  ribbons 
in  the  carriage  in  a  most  animated  flutter,  and 
Chryssa's  little  white  Vandyke  sometimes  blowing 
entirely  round, — at  which  feat  the  children  all 
laughed  as  heartily  as  if  it  had  been  something 
very  funny,  and  quite  unheard  of  heretofore. 

Then  Chryssa  showed  Fulvi  the  precise  spot 
where  she  had  dropped  her  parasol,  and  Sybil 
pointed  out  the  old  house  where  the  robbers  used 
to  live.  The  very  horses  seemed  to  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  day,  and  snorted  and  tossed  their 
heads  as  if  they  too  were  going  a  visiting. 

There  was  great  anxiety  to  see  who  would 
have  the  first  glimpse  of  the  old  chimneys  ;  and 
when  they  reached  the  gate,  without  waiting  for 
Michael  to  close  it  and  remount,  Mr.  Rutherford 
drove  straight  on  to  the  house  himself, — the 
wheels  making  a  delightful  sound  on  the  gravel 
as  they  went. 

The  peacock's  feather  was  sought  immediately, 
and  found — over  the  old  looking-glass  in  the  par- 


230  GOING     A     PLEASURING. 

lour.  With  that  Chryssa  and  Fulvi  amused  them- 
selves till  dinner  was  ready. 

"  Where's  Fulvi,  Aunt  Esther  ?"  said  Chryssa, 
who  by  the  time  her  turn  came  to  be  helped  had 
discovered  that  her  little  companion  was  not  at 
the  table.  "  Where's  Fulvi  ?  I  thought  I  saw 
her  by  Aunt  Eunice." 

"  Your  aunt  sent  her  to  eat  dinner  in  the 
next  room,  because  the  table  was  so  full." 

"  O  she'll  be  very  lonely  in  there  all  alone," 
said  Chryssa.  "  Mayn't  I  go  and  eat  my  dinner 
in  the  other  room  too  ?" 

"  To  be  sure,  if  you  wish." 

So  Chryssa  got  down  from  her  chair,  and 
taking  the  big  dinner-plate  (she  had  no  mind  to 
leave  that)  in  both  hands,  and  it  was  all  that 
both  could  do  to  carry  it ;  she  marched  off  to 
join  Fulvi  in  her  temporary  banishment,  and  they 
eat  their  dinner  together  very  contentedly. 

Then  they  went  out,  and  Chryssa  displayed  all 
the  wonders  of  the  place  ;  dwelling  at  large  upon 
the  varied  and  marvellous  excellencies  of  every 
tree   and   flower   and   shrub.     Suddenly  they  came 


GOING     A     PLEASURING.  231 

upon  a  little  basket  wagon,  standing  empty  among 
the  trees." 

"  0  see  there !"  cried  Fulvi,  "  now  we  can 
ride." 

"  But  I  wonder  whose  it  is,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  I  guess  it's  that  lady's  that  has  the  baby," 
said  Fulvi — "  the  lady  that  wears  such  a  great 
many  yellow  ribbons  on  her  cap." 

"  Well   we'll    get    in,    anyway,"    said    Chryssa  ; 
"  we  shan't  hurt  the  wagon  if  it  is  that  lady's." 
.  "But  we  can't  both  get  in,"  said  Fulvi. 

"  0  yes  we  can  ;  you  get  in  first  and  sit  on 
that  seat — now  curl  up  your  feet  and  I'll  get  in. 
Have  you  got  room  enough  ?"  she  said  when  they 
had  fidgeted  for  a  while  as  well  as  they  could 
for  want  of  room. 

"  I  haven't  got  much,"  said  Fulvi — "  I  guess 
if  we  were  mamma's  trunk  now  the  top  wouldn't 
shut  down." 

Both  children  laughed  very  heartily  at  this 
conceit. 

"I  guess  it  wouldn't,"  said  Chryssa — "there'd 
be   too  much   in  it, — two  frocks   and   two   aprons 


232  GOING     A     PLEASURING 

too  many.  Isn't  it  pretty  to  see  the  trees  hang 
down  all  round  us  so  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Fulvi,  "  but  what  makes  them 
hang  down  ?" 

"0  I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa.  "  How  nice 
it  is  here !  it  won't  muss  our  frocks  much  and 
it's  so  pleasant.  Don't  you  think  it's  a  pretty 
house  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Fulvi,  "  but  not  so  pretty  as 
yours — I'd  rather  be  there." 

"0  no,  it's  not  so  pretty  as  ours — I  s'pose  no- 
body's house  is,  but  I  like  to  be  here  though. 
Aren't  your  feet  very  warm  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  can't  move  them  a  bit." 

"  Well  let's  get  out  then,  and  I'll  show  you 
some  more  things.  0  there  are  the  hydrangeas — 
see,  they  are  in  those  boxes,  and  they  have  pink 
flowers  ;  and  sometimes  people  put  stuff  on  the 
ground  and  then  the  flowers  are  blue — no  they're 
pink — I  forget  which  it  is,  but  they're  different 
somehow.     I  think  they're  beautiful,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Fulvi,  "  are  they  grandmamma's  ?" 

"  Why  she  isn't  your  grandmamma,  she's  mine," 


GOING    A     PLEASURING.  233 

said  Chryssa,  quite  forgetting  the  ownership  of 
the  hydrangeas  to  assert  her  own  claim  to  Mrs. 
Salisbury. 

"  Why  isn't  she  mine  too  ?"  said  Fulvi. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Chryssa — "  why  she  can't 
be  ! — she's  mine  you  know." 

At  this  clear  summing  up  of  the  evidence  the 
children  met  Sybil,  and  Chryssa  proposed  that 
they  should  visit  the  pigs. 

"  They  aren't  pretty,"  said  Sybil,  "  I've  been 
to  look  at  'em, — there  are  no  little  ones  but  only 
two  ugly  big  ones.  Let's  go  to  the  granary  and 
build  cob  houses." 

And  away  they  all  ran  to  the  granary ;  and 
with  hard  labour  of  three  pair  of  hands  they 
had  soon  reared  a  most  imposing  cob  edifice — 
not  perhaps  like  any  other  house  that  ever  was 
built,  but  still  "  very  fine." 

"  Now  if  we  could  only  set  fire  to  it,"  said 
Sybil,  "  it  would  make  such  a  splendid  blaze." 

"  Let's  go  and  ask  grandpapa  if  we  may,"  said 
Chryssa,  and  off  they  all  ran  again,  out  of 
breath   with    eagerness    and   the   expected   confla- 


234  GOING     A     PLEASURING. 

gration.  But  Mr.  Salisbury  looked  grave  at  the 
proposal 

"  Will  you  pay  for  my  granary  if  you  burn 
it  up?"  lie  said. 

"Why  no,  grandpapa  1  but  we  don't  want  to 
burn  up  the  granary — it's  only  our  cob  house." 

"  Only  your  cob  house  made  of  my  cobs,"  said 
he.  "  Well  you're  welcome  to  'em  so  far  as  that 
goes.  But  did  you  never  hear  of  one  house  set- 
ting another  on  fire  ?" 

"But  this  is  so  little  and  the  granary  is  so 
big,"  urged  the  children. 

"And  how  far  is  the  little  house  from  the 
big  one  ?  as  far  as  I  am  from  the  window  ?" 

"  0  no,"  said  Sybil — "  as  far  off  as  the  man- 
tel-piece." 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  do,"  said  he  shaking  his 
head  ;  "but  look  round,  Chryssa,  and  tell  me  what 
you  see  on  the  table." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  but  the  tea-things,  grand- 
papa— 0  you  mean  tea  is  ready." 

"  Precisely, — and  that's  better  than  cob  houses 
any  day.     So  now  we'll  have  tea,  and  to-morrow 


GOING    A     PLEASURING.  235 

we'll  find  a  substitute  for  the  fire — we'll  try  some 
water  instead." 

It  was  decided  that  next  morning  they  should 
all  set  off  for  the  shell-banks.  Sybil  begged  that 
she  might  go  in  the  coach  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Salisbury,  and  the  rest  were  to  go  in  their  own 
carriage. 

The  morning  was  beautiful,  and  the  horses 
were  stamping  at  the  front  door  at  the  very 
minute  for  which  they  were  ordered.  Sybil  pro- 
vided herself  with  a  book,  and  entered  the  coach 
in  a  very  satisfied  state  of  mind  ;  and  she  looked 
so  particularly  comfortable  there,  that  perhaps 
Chryssa  might  have  begged  to  go  in  the  coach 
too,  if  she  had  not  remembered  Fulvi.  And  be- 
sides to  say  truth,  it  was  not  a  little  doubtful 
whether  Sybil's  feet  would  willingly  give  up  the 
second  half  of  the  front  seat,  where  they  had 
immediately  taken  possession.  However,  if  she 
had  more  room  than  Chryssa,  she  had  not  so 
much  fresh  air,  and  she  could  not  look  about  so 
well ;  but  probably  with  her  book  she  didn't 
care  much  about  that. 


236  GOING     A     PLEASURING. 

Chryssa  cared  about  it  and  so  did  Fulvi :  both 
children  were  as  wide  awake  as  they  could  be, 
watching  and  rejoicing  in  every  new  thing. 

By  degrees  the  country  changed  as  they  drove 
on  :  meadows  were  lost  in  sand  banks  and  the 
road  itself  became  sandy,  so  that  the  feet  of  the 
horses  sunk  deep  at  every  step.  Then  came  the 
sea-breeze,  fresh  with  the  smell  of  the  salt  water  ; 
and  now  and  then  the  water  itself  could  be 
seen,  far  away  beyond  the  sand  banks. 

"  I  fear  the  tide  will  be  in  when  we  get 
there,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford,  "  and  then  we  shall 
see  no  oysters  to-night." 

"  Where  do  oysters  come  from,  Uncle  Ruth  ?" 
said  Chryssa. 

"  From  the  bottom  of  the  water — there  they 
live  and  grow  fat." 

"But  how  do  people  know  where  they  are?" 

"  Sometimes  I  suppose  they  are  found  by  acci- 
dent, sometimes  by  a  search  in  what  seem  pro- 
mising places.  Often  the  fishermen  make  oyster 
beds  for  themselves.  What  would  you  think  of 
planting  oysters  ?" 


GOING     A     PLEASURING.  231 

"  I  should  like  it,"  said  Fulvi,  "  for  then  I 
could  have  just  as  many  as  I  wanted." 

"  Yes  if  they  didn't  die,"  said  Chryssa.  "  My 
flowers  die  sometimes  when  I  plant  'em." 

"  Planting  oysters  is  done  in  a  very  different 
way.  The  fishermen  take  a  peculiar  net,  which 
is  fastened  to  three  slender  bits  of  iron,  and 
drag  it  along  the  bottom  of  the  sea  so  that  the 
oysters  are  forced  into  it. 

Then  when  they  draw  up  the  net,  they  find 
old  shells  and  bits  of  wood  and  stone  with  the 
young  oyster  brood  fastened  to  them.  These 
shells  and  stones  the  men  throw  into  some  creek 
or  arm  of  the  sea,  and  there  the  little  oysters 
which  are  very,  very  small  at  first,  grow  and 
fatten,  and  in  two  or  three  years  are  large 
enough  for  you  to  eat." 

"  For  you,  Uncle  Ruth"  said  Chryssa — "  I  like 
the  little  ones  best.  But  do  the  oysters  stick 
fast  to  these  stones  when  they  grow  up  ?" 

"I  cannot  answer  for  all  grown  up  oysters," 
said  Mr.  Rutherford  smiling,  "but  I  believe  they 
are    generally    found    holding    fast    to    something 


238  GOING     A     PLEASURING. 

solid  and  substantial  ;  and  often  the  shells  lose 
their  natural  shape  and  take  that  of  the  rock 
or  sea  plant  to  which  they  cling." 

"Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Chryssa  after  a  pause,  and 
speaking  rather  doubtfully,  "what  kind  of  things 
are  oysters?" 

"  What  kind  of  things  ?  very  good  things  '  I 
think." 

"  But  I  mean"  said  Chryssa,  "  have  they  got 
any  sense — do  they  know  anything  V 

"Enough  for  all  their  purposes  An  oyster 
knows  that  he  must  open  his  shell  when  the  tide 
is  coming  in,  and  shut  it  when  the  tide  is  going 
out.  It  is  said  too,  by  people  who  know  more 
of  them  than  I  do,  that  oysters  are  very  sen- 
sitive to  sounds,  smells,  and  light.  It  is  certain 
that  if  you  sprinkle  salt  on  one  that  is  out  of 
water,  he  will  immediately  open  his  shell ;  and 
fishermen  say  that  in  clear  water  you  can  see 
the  oysters  close  their  shells  when  the  shadow 
of  a  boat  passes  over  them." 

By  this  time  the  carriages  had  reached  the 
little    Shell-bank    hotel,    and    the    children    were 


GOING    A    PLEASURING.  239 

eager  to  go  at  once  to  the  beach  to  look  for 
curious  things  ;  for  Chryssa  had  some  hope  that 
she  might  find  more  than  shells. 

Michael  was  the  first  person  who  picked  up 
anything,  and  his  prize  was  an  immense  conch 
shell,  which  he  brought  and  presented  to  Chryssa  ; 
although  it  was  not  only  very  ugly,  but  as  much 
as  she  could  well  lift.  Chryssa  felt  doubtful  of 
its  being  "  a  shell"  at  all ;  and  by  Sybil's  advice 
she  laid  it  quietly  down  on  the  sand  again,  so 
soon  as  Michael  was  out  of  sight. 

They  walked  about  for  a  long  time,  and  Mr. 
Rutherford  shewed  the  children  a  star-fish,  which 
he  said  was  the  oyster's  worst  enemy  ;  and  he 
explained  to  them  how  it  clasps  its  rays  round 
the  shell  of  the  oyster  and  remains  there  until 
the  oyster  is  dead ;  after  which  the  shell  opens 
and  the  star-fish  can  eat  at  his  leisure. 

Pretty  shells  were  not  plenty, — the  children 
were  fain  to  content  themselves  with  a  few  tiny 
clam  and  scallop  shells — valuable  for  the  same 
reason  as  the  brown  bug  of  the  locust-tree — 
and  one  or  two  muscles   which   Chryssa   admired 


240  GOING    A    PLEASURING. 

for  their  fine  blue  colour  ;  and  then  they  walked 
back  to  tea  and  oysters. 

The  hotel  was  full, — one  large  room  was  all 
that  could  be  had,  and  in  that  the  ladies  and 
the  children  bestowed  themselves,  while  the  gentle- 
men were  to  sleep  somewhere  and  somehow  upon 
sofas.  This  room  however  was  well  supplied  with 
beds,  and  among  the  rest  there  were  two  cots 
for  Sybil  and  Chryssa — who  thought  it  a  remark- 
able piece  of  good  fortune.  Sybil  especially,  went 
whisking  about  the  room,  talking  and  laughing 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  and  at  last  sprang 
upon  her  cot  with  so  much  energy  that  "  down 
came  lullaby  baby  and  all,"  as  the  song  says, — 
Sybil  and  the  cot  lay  on  the  floor. 

Nothing  was  hurt  however,  except  the  cot, 
but  that  was  a  ruin ;  and  there  was  no  help 
for  it — Chryssa  must  give  up  her  cot  to  Sybil 
and  creep  into  some  little  place  in  the  large 
bed. 

But  they  were  all  too  tired  to  lie  awake, 
and  the  first  half  of  the  night  passed  off  very 
quietly.      Then   Chryssa   waked    in    a  violent    fit 


GOING    A     PLEASURING.  241 

of  crying,  which  of  course  aroused  the  rest. 
What  could  be  the  matter  ? 

It  was  not  easy  to  find  out  ;  and  the  child's 
grief,  though  unaccountable,  was  so  very  heart- 
felt, that  Mrs.  Lee  and  Mrs.  Rutherford  cried 
for  sympathy.  At  last  Chryssa  found  words  to 
tell  that  she  had  dreamed  her  father  came  to 
life,  and  that  he  looked  like  Uncle  Ruth,  and 
that  he  died  again. 

"And  he  said,"  added  Chryssa  bursting  into 
another  fit  of  tears,  "he  said  that  Sybil  had 
killed  him  because  she  wouldn't  study  her  les- 
sons !" 

It  was  long  before  Chryssa  could  be  soothed 
and  comforted,  and  then  she  rather  sobbed  her- 
self to  sleep. 

But  the  effects  of  the  dream  were  pretty  well 
slept  off  before  morning,  and  after  another  meal  of 
oysters  and  another  walk  after  shells,  the  whole 
party  set  out  for  home. 

"  I    declare,"   said    Mr.    Salisbury    when    they 

had    driven    a   few  miles,    "I    never    thought    to 

speak    of    that    bedstead ! — -however    I    shall    be 
11 


242  GOING     A     PLEASURING. 

there  again  in  a  week  or  two,  and  the  man 
certainly  tacked  enough  on  to  the  proper  amount 
of  his  bill,  to  pay  for  two  or  three." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


THE     END     OF    THE    SUMMER, 


"TTNCLE   Ruth,"   said   Chryssa   as   they   sat   at 
breakfast  one  morning  about  a  week  after 
the  Lees  had  taken  their  departure,  "isn't  it  very 
wrong  for  spiders  to  kill  flics  ?" 


244  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

"What  did  we  have  for  dinner  yesterday?"  was 
her  uncle's  strange  reply. 

"Why  I  don't  know,  Uncle  Ruth — 0  yes,  you 
said  it  was  mutton.  But  then  I  was  talking 
about  the  spiders." 

"  And  I  am  talking  about  the  mutton.  Do 
you  know  where  it  comes  from  and  how  we  get 
it?" 

" Yes,"  said  Chryssa  with  a  grave  face,  "I  re- 
member you  told  me  once ;"  and  then  after  a  pause 
she  added,  "  Ah  but  we  must  have  dinner,  Uncle 
Ruth." 

"And  so  must  the  spider." 

"  Then  it's  right  for  him  to  catch  flies  ?" 

"To  be  sure  it  is — just  as  right  as  for  your 
chickens  to  catch  grasshoppers.  You  never  thought 
they  were  doing  wrong,  did  you  ?" 

"0  no,"  said  Chryssa,  "but  Garret  says  it  makes 
'em  grow  fat." 

"  And  are  spiders  in  duty  bound  to  keep  them- 
selves thin  ?"  said  Mr.  Rutherford  laughing.  "  Then 
there's  your  cat,  Chryssa — what  do  you  think  of 
that  mouse  she  caught  yesterday  ?" 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  245 

"I  know,"  said  Chryssa,  "and  Fulvi  says  her 
cousin's  cat  caught  ever  so  many  birds." 

"And  so  will  yours,  I've  no  doubt." 

"  It's  yery  bad,"  said  Chryssa,  "  I  don't  like  to 
think  about  it.  But  then  Uncle  Ruth  I'd  a  great 
deal  rather  see  the  chickens  eat  than  the  spiders, 
— I  don't  like  to  see  the  flies  caught — it's  disa- 
greeable." 

"That  is  partly  because  you  don't  like  the  spi- 
ders, I  fancy,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford,  "  and  don't 
care  whether  they  have  anything  to  eat  or  not; 
though  I  must  confess  that  to  see  an  insect  caught 
in  a  trap  and  then  slain  and  eaten  in  cold  blood, 
is  more  disagreeable  than  to  see  it  picked  up  and 
swallowed  at  a  mouthful.  But  what  put  all  this 
in  your  little  head  ?" 

"Why  Uncle  Ruth,  yesterday  Sybil  and  I  went 
over  to  Mrs.  Delue's,  and  we  went  up  into  their 
garret  to  see  Maria's  playthings  ;  and  Theodore 
came  up  too,  and  he  caught  all  the  flies  he  could 
find  and  put  them  into  a  great  spider's  web  that 
was  up  there.  And  Sybil  said  he  ought  not  to  do 
so,  and  he  said  he  ought,  and  that  spiders  wanted 


246  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

to  eat  just  as  much  as  anything  else.  And  then 
I  "wondered  whether  they  ought  to  have  anything 
to  eat,  and  whether  it  was  right  to  catch  flies  for 
them." 

"  Spiders  certainly  want  to  eat,"  replied  Mr. 
Rutherford,  "  and  they  do  no  wrong  in  spinning 
their  webs  and  eating  all  they  can  catch  ;  but  I 
think  we  must  stop  there.  I  should  be  very  sorry 
to  amuse  myself  with  killing  anything — even  grass- 
hoppers for  the  fattening  of  the  bantams,  Chryssie. 
So  we  may  let  the  spiders  provide  their  own  dinner." 

"  Are  spiders  of  any  use  ?"  said  Sybil.  "  I 
mean  does  anything  eat  them  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  birds,  and  some  large  insects — wasps  for 
example.  If  you  were  to  open  the  nest  of  a 
kind  of  mason  wasp,  you  would  find  a  number 
of  imprisoned  spiders  ;  put  there  for  the  young 
grub  to  feed  on  when  it  is  first  hatched." 

"  Uncle  Ruth,"  said  Chryssa,  "  you  remember 
that  great  yellow  spider — 0  no,  you  didn't  see 
it  either — but  its  web  was  so  strong  !  I  think 
it  was  stronger  than  the  silk  thread  you  shewed 
me  at  Mr.  Grandin's." 


THE     END    OF    THE     SUMMER.  241 

"Well?"  said  Mr.  Rutherford. 

"Well,  Uncle  Ruth, — why  don't  people  make 
spiders  spin  for  them,  and  let  'em  be  of  some 
use  V 

"I  don't  know  how  , one  could  make  a  spider 
spin,"  said  Mr.  Rutherford,  "  but  people  have 
tried  the  experiment  of  shutting  them  up  in  cages 
and  then  using  the  silk  which  they  spun  for  them- 
selves." 

"  And  was  it  good  ?  did  it  make  nice  things  V 

"  Very  nice  things  of  some  kinds, — such  as 
required  only  a  short  thread.  But  the  plan 
didn't  work  very  well,  for  the  spiders  some- 
times left  spinning  and  took  to  eating  each 
other  up." 

"  That's  just  like  'em  1"  said  Chryssa.  "  Do 
you  know  Uncle  Ruth,  the  other  day  I  found 
a  spider's  web  on  a  currant  bush,  and  there 
were  two  yellow  butterfly's  wings  in  it !  and  they 
were  all  broken,  too." 

"  0  ho  !"  said  Mr.  Rutherford.  "  So  now  we 
have  the  source  of  this  little  jet-d'eau  of  indig- 
nation against  spiders.     Well,  to  come  from  them 


248  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

to  ourselves,  I  am  going  to  Courtland  next  week, 
and  I  think  you  had  all  better  go  along.  What 
do  you  say  ?" 

Everybody  liked  the  plan  very  much,  and  the 
children  immediately  began  to  make  additional 
little  plans  of  their  own. 

"  I'll  get  grandmamma  to  take  me  to  town 
and  buy  us  each  a  basket,"  said  Sybil :  "  we 
must  have  something  to  carry  books  and  every- 
thing in." 

"  And  Uncle  Ruth"  said  Chryssa,  "  won't  you 
please  to  bring  us  home  a  very  little  candy  to 
put  in  our  baskets  ?  because  we  might  be  very 
hungry  on  the  boat." 

"  And  as  the  baskets  are  to  carry  everything 
they  must  have  everything  to  carry,"  said  her 
uncle  smiling.  "The  candy  shall  be  forthcoming, 
Chryssie,  I  promise  you." 

This  was  Friday,  and  they  were  to  go  the 
following  Tuesday.  Of  course  all  had  to  be 
busy ;  at  least  Mrs.  Rutherford  had,  and  the 
children  were  or  fancied  themselves  equally  oc- 
cupied. 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  249 

That  day  Michael  brought  home  a  bundle, 
and  it  pi'oved  to  be  made  up  of  sundry  pair 
of  socks,  striped  with  all  the  colours  of  the  rain- 
bow ;  not  up  and  down  but  round  and  round — 
something  like  what  worsted  workers  call  chene. 

"  Sit  down  and  try  them  on,  Chryssie,"  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford,  handing  her  a  pair  of  which 
the  prevailing  colours  were  fawn  and  blue. 

"  But  they're  not  mine,"  said  Chryssa. 

"  Do  you  think  they  would  fit  me  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Rutherford  holding  out  her  foot.  "Why  Chryssa 
didn't  you  know  that  your  old  socks  were  worn 
out  ?" 

Chryssa  sat  down  on  the  floor  without  more 
delay,  and  the  two  bare  feet  were  quickly  suc- 
ceeded by  two  encased  in  the  chene  socks. 
Chryssa  curled  and  uncurled  her  toes  with  great 
satisfaction. 

"  They're    so    nice !"   she   said  ;    "so    soft    and 

warm  !  I  think   I   like   this  pair  best — 0    I  don't 

know   either — there's    one   with    pink   stripes — and 

another   with   purple.     Now   Aunt    Esther,    which 

do  you  think's  prettiest  ?" 
11* 


250  THE     EXD     OF     THE     SUMMER. 

"  I  advise  you  not  to  like  one  better  than 
the  rest,"  said  Mrs.  Rutherford  smiling  ;  "  because 
if  you  preferred  the  blue  you  might  not  properly 
enjoy  the  pink — or  a  recollection  of  the  pink 
might  efface  the  glory  of  the  purple." 

Chryssa  laughed,  and  pulled  off  the  blue  socks 
that  they  might  be  marked  with  the  others. 

The  baskets  were  got  and  pretty  they  were  ; 
both  alike,  of  green  and  white  wicker-work,  only 
Sybil's  was  somewhat  the  largest.  This  was 
Monday  ;  and  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Rutherford 
brought  home  a  paper  of  candy  that  far  ex- 
ceeded Chryssa's  modest  request  for  "  a  very 
little." 

It  was  delightful  to  pack  the  new  baskets, — 
to  expend  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  iugenuity 
in  making  things  lie  close,  where  there  was  room 
enough  for  them  to  lie  as  they  would. 

"What  book  shall  I  take,  Aunt  Esther?"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  I  wouldn't  take  any  my  dear." 

"But  Sybil  is  going  to  —  she's  got  'Rose  and 
Emily'  in  her  basket." 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  251 

"Well  take  one  then,  though  I  don't  believe 
you  will  read  much,  —  take  that  little  red  book 
that  lies  on  your  shelf  —  what's  the  name  of 
it?" 

"0,  my  'Grateful  Tribute'  —  that  is  the  very 
thing." 

"  I  guess  I'll  put  this  at  the  bottom,"  said 
Chryssa,  pulling  out  of  her  basket  the  little  hand- 
kerchief and  the  little  bottle  of  Cologne  and  the 
small  paper  of  candy,  —  "it'll  go  best  there." 

"But  then  you'll  have  to  unpack  all  your  bas- 
ket when  you  want  to  read,"  said  Sybil. 

"  Well  where  shall  I  put  it  ?"  said  Chryssa, — 
"if  I  put  it  on  top  the  cover  don't  shut  tight, 
because  the  book's  so  square  ;  and  besides  then 
I  should  have  to  unpack  my  basket  to  get  at  the 
candy." 

"I  advise  you  to  pack  the  basket  just  in  the 
way  you  think  best,"  said  her  aunt  :  "  consider 
and  judge  for  yourself." 

So  after  a  good  deal  of  consideration  and  try- 
ing, Chryssa  laid  the  little  square  book  at  the 
bottom,  and  the  paper  of  candy  upon  that;  while 


252  THE    END-   -Of"    THE    SUMMER. 

the  little  space  at  one  end  of  the  basket  held  the 
Cologne  bottle,  and  the  little  space  at  the  other 
the  pocket-handkerchief.  And  the  cover  shut  down 
tight,  and  Chryssa  felt  perfectly  satisfied. 

Then  before  she  went  to  bed  she  put  on  a 
chair  every  thing  she  would  want  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  the  dress  and  the  gloves  and  the  clean 
pantalettes  and  stockings.  The  last  thing  was  to 
set  the  little  basket  there  too,  as  if  that  could 
possibly  be  forgotten  ! 

Tuesday  morning  rose  very  dark ;  which  was 
indeed  no  fault  of  the  morning  —  for  sky  and 
stars  were  as  clear  as  could  be  —  but  only  of 
those  people  who  would  get  up  before  it  was 
light. 

Chryssa  had  no  mind  to  be  of  the  number,  and 
it  was  not  until  "  wake  up  Chryssa  !"  had  been 
several  times  repeated,  that  she  opened  her  eyes. 
Then  she  was  bolt  upright  and  had  pulled  off  her 
nightcap  in  a  moment,  after  which  she  proceeded 
to  wake  up  at  her  leisure  and  to  ask  questions  ; 
for  the  moving  lights  and  figures  about  her  were 
somewhat  bewildering. 


THE     END     OF     THE     SUMMER.  253 

"  What's  the  matter  Aunt  Esther  ?  does  it 
rain  ?  aren't  we  going  ?" 

"If  you  can  resolve  to  get  up,"  said  her  aunt. 
"I  shouldn't  like  to  go  and  leave  you  in  bed." 

"But  what  makes  it  so  dark?" 

"What  makes  it  so  dark?  Why  because  it 
isn't  light  yet.  The  sun  isn't  thinking  of  getting 
up  any  more  than  you  are." 

"It  seems  I  am  not  the  only  person  who  can 
lie  abed,"  observed  Sybil. 

"  Especially  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning," 
said  her  aunt. 

Chryssa  was  out  of  bed  directly.  "  How  I  like 
to  dress  by  candlelight !"  she  said. 

"Yes,  it's  pleasant  enough,  once  in  a  while," 
said  Sybil. 

"Aunt  Esther,"  said  Chryssa,  pausing  with  one 
black  shoe  held  ready  for  her  foot,  "have  you 
got  my  green  shoes  in  the  trunk  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  green  shoestrings." 

"  Ah  you  needn't  laugh  at  me — I  thought 
maybe  you  might  forget  to  put  'em  in,  and  then 
I  might  want  'em." 


254  THE     EN'D     OF     THE     SUMMER. 

Breakfast  was  ready  before  people  were  teady 
to  eat  it,  but  as  nobody  wanted  to  eat  a  great 
deal,  they  had  time  enough.  Only  of  course 
everybody  got  in  a  hurry  after  breakfast, — Mr. 
Rutherford  supposing  they  should  be  left,  and 
one  trunk  refusing  to  be  locked  ;  and  then 
they  were  driving  off  very  fast.  Both  baskets 
were  tightly  grasped  lest  they  should  run 
away, — both  little  faces  wore  a  look  of  complete 
satisfaction. 

It  was  too  dark  to  see  porpoises  as  they 
crossed  the  ferry  that  morning,  and  I  don't  know 
whether  people  who  were  on  a  journey  to  Court- 
land  would  have  thought  them  worth  looking  at. 
The  thing  most  to  be  desired  was  that  the  boat 
should  make  haste,  and  that  the  horses  should 
trot  as  fast  as  possible  across  the  city.  It  was 
all  done  in  good  time,  and  they  were  on  the  deck 
of  the  Morpheus  full  ten  minutes  before  the  last 
bell  rang. 

Not  idle  minutes  those.  All  of  the  human  race 
that  one  could  see  were  hurrying  about  in  a  most 
confused  state  of  mind  :  and  the  boat  herself  was 


THE     END     OF     THE     SUMMER.  255 

puffing  off  steam,  but  in  a  more  regular  and  busi- 
ness-like fashion  ;  while  her  paddles  dashed  for- 
ward and  then  back,  and  as  if  she  were  only 
withheld  by  the  creaking  cables  from  starting 
forth  on  her  way.  There  was  a  minute  of  great 
noise  and  bustle  ■ —  the  cables  were  slipped  from 
the  great  wharf  posts  —  and  "Now  we  are  off!" 
cried  Sybil,  while  Chryssa  stood  silently  watching 
how  fast  the  wharf  sailed  away,  and  what  a  long 
line  of  foam  there  was  between  them  already. 
Singling  out  one  particular  wave  in  the  boat's 
wake,  she  tried  to  keep  her  eye  on  it ;  and  by 
the  time  she  had  so  chosen  about  twenty  and  lost 
them  every  one,  Chryssa  felt  sure  that  the  thing 
was  impossible. 

By  this  time  too  she  was  tired,  and  wanted 
a  seat,  but  not  one  could  be  found,  —  she  had 
chosen  to  watch  the  foam,  and  other  people  had 
chosen  to  take  the  chairs.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 
Chryssa  was  really  tired;  and  besides,  if  she  stood 
up  how  could  she  read  her  "  Grateful  Tribute," 
or  eat  candy,  or  in  fact  do  anything  else  ?  and 
to  sit  on  Mr.  Rutherford's  lap  was  almost  as  bad, 


25G  THE     END     OF     THE     SUMMER. 

and  the  half  of  Sybil's  stool  was  not  very  inviting 
for  there  was  no  back  to  it. 

"I'll  go  look  for  a  chair,"  said  Chryssa — "may- 
be there's  one  standing  behind  somebody." 

"  I'm  afraid  there'll  be  somebody  in  it/'  said 
Mrs.  Rutherford,  "but  you  may  look,  if  you  won't 
go  out  of  sight." 

And  Chryssa  looked — and  looked.  She  picked 
her  way  round  about  among  the  crowd,  stepping 
over  some  people's  feet  and  other  people's  umbrel- 
las ;  now  brought  up  short  by  a  carpet  bag  and 
now  by  an  immense  wicker  basket.  The  people 
not  only  had  the  chairs  but  they  had  the  floor 
too,  and  some  had  more  chairs  than  one.  But 
as  grown  up  people  always  think  that  children 
can  do  without  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of 
life,  no  lady  moved  her  book  and  parasol  and  no 
gentleman  his  boots  from  one  of  those  extra  chairs 
which  Chryssa  would  have  liked  so  much. 

"  "What  do  you  want,  my  dear  ?"  inquired 
another  gentleman  who  had  just  come  from 
the  forward  deck.  "What  are  you  looking 
for  f 


THE     END    OF    THE     SUMMER.  257 

"  For  a  chair  sir,"  said  Chryssa  ;  "  everybody's 
got  one  but  nie — I  wish  there  was  just  one 
more." 

"  I  dare  say  there  is  one  more,"  said  the  gen- 
tleman smiling.  "  You  haven't  looked  all  over  the 
boat,  have  you  ?" 

"0  no  sir.  Aunt  Esther  told  me  not  to  go 
out  of  sight,  so  I've  only  looked  on  this  side  and 
a  little  bit  on  the  other." 

"  Come  with  me  and  we  will  look  further,"  said 
the  gentleman  ;  and  after  a  glance  towards  Mrs. 
Rutherford  to  make  sure  that  she  saw  the  pro- 
ceeding, Chryssa  followed  her  new  acquaintance 
very  willingly.  He  found  her  a  chair  after  a 
very  short  search;  not  indeed  an  unoccupied  one, 
but  as  it  held  only  part  of  somebody,  that  part 
was  dislodged  with  a  courteous  "  By  your  leave 
sir  ;"  and  whether  patent  leather  boots  liked  the 
floor  or  no,  Chryssa  liked  her  chair  and  was  very 
glad  of  it ;  though  when  the  gentleman  had  car- 
ried it  and  set  it  down  for  her  by  Mrs.  Ruther- 
ford, he  hardly  stayed  long  enough  for  her  to 
thank  him.     And  there  she  and  Sybil  sat  for  the 


258  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

rest  of  the  day,  and  read  their  books  and  eat 
candy  by  turns. 

Night  found  them  both  asleep  in  the  Mervyn 
hotel  at  Courtland. 

The  first  two  days  it  rained;  and  as  they  had 
little  to  do  within  doors,  Sybil  proposed  that 
Chryssa  should  have  a  new  book  to  help  pass 
away  the  time.  But  when  Mr.  Rutherford  had 
brought  a  pretty  little  "Vacations  at  home"  with 
a  marbled  cover  and  red  back,  a  new  difficulty 
arose. 

"I'll  read  it  aloud  to  you,  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil. 

"But  I'd  rather  read  it  to  myself,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"0  no,  this  is  much  the  best  way,  and  then 
you  see  we  can  both  read  it  at  once." 

"  "Well  you  read  it  first  and  I'll  wait,"  said 
Chryssa. 

"But  I  can't  do  that,  because  it's  your  book," 
said  Sybil.     "I'll  read  it  to  you." 

"I  had  a  great  deal  rather  read  it  to  myself," 
said  Chryssa,  "but  you  may  read  it  aloud  if  you 
want  to." 


THE     END     OF    TfiE     SUMMER.  259 

The  book  was  a  great  amusement,  even  read 
aloud,  and  when  the  children  were  tired  of  that 
they  amused  themselves  by  running  up  and  down 
the  wide  hall  of  the  hotel,  but  softly  so  as  not 
to  disturb  other  people. 

One  day  after  it  had  cleared  up,  Chryssa  was 
playing  there  when  the  head  waiter  came  by. 
He  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  her,  and  now  he 
stopped  and  took  her  up  in  his  arms  and  asked 
her  if  she  ever  saw  any  ducks,  and  if  she  would 
like  to  see  some. 

No,  Chryssa  said,  she  had  never  seen  any,  but 
she  would  like  to  very  much.  Did  they  look  like 
bantams  ? 

Forsyth  laughed,  and  telling  her  she  should 
see,  he  carried  her  down  into  the  yard,  where 
were  ever  so  many  ducks — white  and  purple  and 
green  and  black.  Chryssa  thought  they  were 
quite  splendid. 

"  But  what  do  they  keep  them  shut  up  here 
for  1"  she  said.  "  I  shouldn't  think  they  would 
like  it." 

"They  won't  be   shut  up  here   long"  said  For- 


260  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

syth;  "  you'll  see  some  of  'em  on  the  table  for 
dinner." 

"  For  dinner  !"  said  Chryssa.  "  Are  they  go- 
ing to  kill  all  those  pretty  ducks  ?" 

"  Every  one  of  them." 

Chryssa  was  like  the  little  girl  in  the  fairy- 
tale — "  she  turned  away  her  head  and  wished 
herself  at  home,"  —  and  Forsyth  took  her  upstairs 
again. 

"Aunt  Esther!"  she  exclaimed  as  soon  as  she 
reached  their  own  room,  "  don't  eat  any  ducks 
for  dinner!" 

"  Mayn't  I  eat  a  small  piece  of  one  duck  V 
said  Mrs.  Rutherford. 

"  0  no  indeed  you  mustn't,"  said  Chryssa,  "  be- 
cause they're  all  running  about  the  yard  now  !  1 
saw  them  !  and  they  looked  so  pretty  !" 

"Why  where  have  you  been,  Chryssa,  and 
what  is  all  this  about  ducks  ?  There  are  a 
great  many  ducks  running  about  in  different 
places." 

"  Forsyth  took  me  down  to  see  some  ducks," 
explained   Chryssa,   "and   I  liked   them   so  much, 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  261 

and  he  said  we  should  have  them  all  for  din- 
ner." 

"When  I  shall  like  them  very  much,"  said  her 
aunt.  "Why  Chryssa  my  dear,  all  the  ducks  you 
ever  tasted  were  alive  once — didn't  you  know 
that?  Have  you  forgotten  about  the  spider's  din- 
ner and  ours?" 

"No,"  said  Chryssa,  "but  these  ducks  were  so 
pretty,  and  I  never  saw  any  before,  and  they  had 
such  bright  eyes.  I  wouldn't  eat  one  for  any- 
thing." 

"  Well  maybe  we  shall  not  have  a  chance  to- 
day, after  all,"  said  her  aunt. 

And  whatever  was  the  reason,  no  ducks  ap- 
peared on  the  dinner-table,  and  Chryssa  certainly 
enjoyed  her  dinner  the  more  for  their  absence. 
With  the  dessert  came  on  large  dishes  of  fine 
plums,  and  a  gentleman  near  Mrs.  Rutherford 
took  a  purple  one  and  a  white  one  and  offered 
them  to  Chryssa.  But  whether  she  thought  she 
had  had  her  share  already,  or  whether  some  of 
the  fear  with  which  she  regarded  the  gentleman 
was  transferred  to  the  plums,  I  don't  know  ;   but 


262  THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER. 

she  steadily  refused  to  take  them,  and  even 
put  her  face  down  in  her  aunt's  lap  for  very- 
shyness.  Thereupon  the  plums  were  offered  to 
Sybil,  who  took  them  at  once  ;  and  then  Chryssa 
began  to  think  she  had  been  very  foolish,  as 
there  is  no  doubt  she  had. 

"  Chryssa,"  said  Sybil  that  evening  after  tea, 
"I've  got  a  letter  for  you  in  my  basket." 

"  A  letter  for  me  ?"  said  Chryssa,  "  why  who 
can  it  be  from  ?" 

"It's  from  Cupid  Grey,"  said  Sybil,  "who  lives 
at  the  sign  of  the  hearth-rug." 

"Why  she  isn't  grey,"  said  Chryssa  when  they 
had  both  laughed  for  about  ten  minutes  ;  "  her 
name  ought  to  be  White." 

"No,  it's  Grey,"  said  Sybil;  "Cupid  Grey  and 
Bessie  White." 

"But  where  did  you  get  the  letter?"  said 
Chryssa. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Sybil ;  "I  got  it — some- 
where.    Now  sit  still  and  I'll  read  it  to  you." 

"  It  looks  just  like  your  writing  !"  said  Chryssa 
peering  over  to  look  at  the  letter. 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  263 

"Hush!"  said  Sybil.  "Of  coarse  if  anybody 
taught  the  cats  to  write  I  did.  Now  Chryssa  sit 
still  !" 

So  Chryssa  sat  still,  only  her  eyes  sparkled 
very  much  as  Sybil  read. 


"My  much  loved  friend,  what  makes  you  stay 
So  long  from  home  and  me  away? 
It  makes  my  heart  with  sorrow  burn — 
I  fear  that  you  will  ne'er  return. 
I  have  but  one  friend  left,  and  she 
Is  busy  oft,  nor  thinks  of  me, 
Why  aren't  you  here  to  plead  my  cause 
Against  the  rigorous  dairy  laws  ? 
To  shelter  me  beneath  your  chair; 
And  when  you  can't  protect  me  there, 
Out  of  the  window  quick  to  throw, 
Or  make  me  to  the  garret  go? 
About  the  barn  there  are  strange  cats, 
Who  make  sad  havoc  of  the  rats; 
So  that  when  I  go  over  there 
I  cannot  even  get  my  share. 
And  mice  are  scarce,  and  things  in  feather 
Are  thought  too  precious  altogether, 
For  cats  to  eat.    Upon  my  word, 
One  day  I  caught  a  tiny  bird; 
But  scarce  had  I  my  prey  half  shaken, 
When  from  me  it  was  roughly  taken  ! 
A  chicken  then  I  thought  to  try — 
But  Biddy  on  me  had  her  eye, 
And  quick  before  I  was  aware 
Her  namesake  screamed,  and  she  was  Umra! 


264  THE     EN'D     OF     THE     SUMMER. 

your  tender  heart  it  would  have  grieved 
To  see  the  blows  that  I  received. 
But  I  of  woes  will  say  no  more, 
Though  of  them  I've  a  plenteous  store. 
Baneath  the  honeysuckle  bush  I  lie, 
And  think  of  you,  and  watch  the  sky; 
And  wash  my  face,  and  smell  the  clover, 
And  take  the  sunshine  in  all  over. 
With  every  breeze  my  hairs  now  float, 
And  soon  I'll  have  a  bran  new  coat ; 
My  eyes  are  as  the  gooseberry  green, 
And  redder  nose  was  never  seen. 
Writing  so  long  has  tired  my  paw, 
And  scarcely  can  I  move  a  claw. 
Come  back  again  my  head  to  tap — 
To  let  me  rest  upon  your  lap, — 
To  help  me  when  all  angry  get, — 
Come  back  once  more  to  see  your  pet. 
Hoping  my  note  may  not  prove  stupid, 
I  sign  myself, 

Votje  Little  Cdtid. 

"Why  that's  splendid!"  said  Chryssa,  when  she 
could  stop  laughing  and  clapping  her  hands. 
"But  Bess  ought  to  have  written  too." 

"0,"  said  Sybil,  "Bess's  letter  was  private 
and  confidential." 

A  week  had.  been  spent  at  Courtland  in  walk- 
ing and  driving  and  visiting  and  sight-seeing,  and 
then  one  afternoon  the  family  drove  to  the  boat 
and  set  out  for  their  own  home  ;  and  Sybil  began 


THE     END     OF    THE     SUMMER.  265 

to  long  for  her  pet  books  again,  and  Chryssa 
began  to  long  for  her  chickens  and  kitten  ;  and 
to  wonder  how  she  conld  have  been  so  glad  to 
leave  them. 


THE     END. 


